Brave New World
by DZ Dillinger
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER 10 - To Be or Not To Be - After the events of X2, the US launches Operation Avenger, headed by a team called Captain America. Who will survive? Major Character Death. A surprising ending.
1. The Speech

**Disclaimer**: The**_ X-Men_** (including all prominent characters and distinctive likenesses thereof) are the sole property and trademark of Marvel Entertainment Group, Inc.  All other characters, locations, circumstances, and situations represented here are purely fictional.  Any resemblance to any real people, places, or events is unintentional and purely coincidental.  No profit or payment of any kind is being derived from this story. 

Setting: Minutes after the events of X-Men 2.

Note from the author: This chapter is long, but well worth reading, as it sets the tone for the entire story to come.  It is a reworking of a FAMOUS speech that most people will recognize immediately – with some VERY notable differences.  It will help if you have read various X-Men and Marvel comics: including Captain America, Iron-Man, Nick Fury, the Avengers, and the Ultimates.

**"The Speech"**

The President sat in his chair, completely dumbfounded.  The leader of the free world, the commander-in-chief of the most advanced, and most powerful military the world has ever known… was utterly in shock.  President John Armstrong McKenna only had a few minutes to compose himself after the mutants left the Oval office.  "Freezing" the entire staff, the entire security detail, and just about everyone within the Whitehouse compound, was not just a precautionary move on the mutants' part… it was a demonstration of power.  The President understood that demonstration, and was even more convinced that he had made the right decision: that it was time to give the mutant population of his country (and the world) the **PROPER** respect and attention they deserved.  He calmly placed the late Colonel Stryker's file folder in his desk drawer – since the contents of the blue packet were nothing new to him.  What had initially shocked him was these mutants were able to get this information – sparse as it was.  Stryker was a low-level errant operative that was given a dead-end task of developing mutant soldiers and assassins.  Somehow he managed to botch what was designed to be the simplest of jobs.  If these mutant "X-Men" hadn't taken him out, Lieutenant Lyman and his men were already ordered to execute Stryker and destroy the Alkili Lake facility.  The only good that came from Stryker's work was the research and analysis of the Cerebro machine.  This machine's capabilities were already being duplicated, reversed engineered, and reproduced by better qualified, and **MUCH** better funded, facilities than Stryker's "Weapon X" division.  The Cerebro capabilities would make a necessary addition to the rest of the weapons and technologies being secretly developed and deployed under the decades-old Mutant Protocols.  

Pushing those thoughts aside, President McKenna composed himself – just as the television crew, security personnel, and administration staff in the Oval office became "unfrozen" from their mental stasis.  

"Mr. President, are you ready?" asked the director.

"Yes, I am", replied President McKenna.

"Then we're live in five, four, three, two… ", and the director pointed at the President, just as the red light on the video cameras flashed – indicating that this time they were indeed broadcasting to an expectant nation – and awaiting world.

The President looked up at the camera, stared solemnly for a couple seconds, and mentally steadied himself for a speech that he had wearily written himself – fully knowing that the eyes of the planet would be upon him.  On his shoulders was the responsibility of steering the immediate course of human history.  He took in an even breath… and then spoke:

"My fellow Americans… In the normal course of events, Presidents come to this chamber to deliver speeches, news, and reports on the state of our Union. Tonight, no such report is needed. **It has already been delivered by the American people.**  

We are seeing it in the courage of those who are risking their lives right now to go the aid of their fellow citizens in need.  We are seeing the state of our Union in the endurance of the rescuers, who are at this moment working past their own mental pain, emotional stress, and physical exhaustion from which most aren't fully recovered yet.  We are seeing it in the unfurling of flags, the lighting of candles, the giving of blood, the saying of prayers. We are witnesses to the decency of a loving and giving people who have made the grief of strangers their own.

 My fellow Americans, for the last nine hours, the entire world has seen for itself the state of our Union -- and it is strong.  Tonight we are a country awakened to danger and called to defend freedom. Our grief has turned to anger, and anger to resolution. **Whether we bring our enemies to justice, or bring justice to our enemies, justice will be done.**

On this day, enemies of freedom committed an act of war against our country. Americans have known wars -- but for the past 136 years, they have been wars on foreign soil, except for one Sunday in 1941. Americans have known the casualties of war -- but not at the corner of every home, town, and city on a peaceful morning. Americans have known surprise attacks -- but never before on hundreds of millions of civilians – **OUR ENTIRE POPULATION**. All of this was brought upon us in a single day -- and night has fallen on a different world, a world where freedom itself is under attack.

Americans have many questions tonight. They are asking: Who attacked our country?  Who attacked the world?  **The evidence and information we are gathering all points to a collection of loosely affiliated mutant terrorist organizations, chief of which are the self-proclaimed Brotherhood of Mutants.** They are the same murderers wanted for countless crimes over the years, all over the globe, and are responsible for the attack on Liberty Island just one year ago.

**These mutants are to terrorism what the mafia is to crime**. But their goal is not making money; their goal is remaking and recreating the world -- and imposing their radical beliefs on people everywhere.

The terrorists hold fast to a fringe philosophy that has been rejected by the vast majority of people worldwide -- a fringe movement that perverts and corrupts its followers with an unbridled hate towards their fellow man.  **The terrorists' directive commands them to kill all human beings, to kill all Americans, and make no distinction among military and civilians, including women and children.**

**This group and its leader -- a person named Erik Lehnsherr  -- are linked to many other organizations in different countries, including the Hellfire Club, and the Mutant Liberation Front.** There are hundred of these known terrorists in more than 60 countries. They are recruited from their own families, nations, and neighborhoods and brought to secret camps in remote locations, where they are trained to use their unique abilities for terror. They are sent back to their homes or sent to hide in countries around the world to plot evil and destruction.

The United States respects all people of every kind, whether they be mutated or not -- after all, we are currently home to the largest known population of mutated humans on the planet -- but we condemn the Brotherhood of Mutants and their supporters.  Their supporters are threatening people everywhere by sponsoring and sheltering and supplying terrorists. By aiding and abetting murder, the supporters of the Brotherhood are also committing murder.

**And tonight, the United States of America makes the following demands on the Brotherhood, the Hellfire Club, and all such organizations:** Deliver to United States authorities all the leaders of these groups who hide among you.  Release any prisoners, including American citizens, you have unjustly confined. Cease and desist the murder, kidnapping, and subsequent impersonation of journalists, diplomats, and politicians – **such as the LATE Senator Robert Kelly** – whom we have just recently discovered to have been murdered and impersonated by members of the Brotherhood of Mutants.  Our prayers and condolences are with his family, friends, and constituents.  We demand the immediate and permanent closing of every terrorist training camp, and hand over every terrorist, and every person in their support structure, to the appropriate authorities.  Give the United States full access to terrorist training camps, so we can make sure they are no longer operating. 

These demands are not open to negotiation or discussion.  **The Brotherhood of Mutants and all of their kind must act, and act immediately. They will hand over the terrorists, or they will share in their fate. **

Americans are asking, why do they hate us? **They hate what we enjoy every day -- a world full of different people, enjoying their lives and freedoms to their fullest, secure that noone will use any unique gift or ability, no matter how powerful, to cause them harm.**  Their leaders are self-appointed. They hate our freedoms -- our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other.  They see themselves as something **OTHER** than human.  **They call themselves HOMO SAPIENS SUPERIOR, as if they were somehow our genetic masters.**  

These terrorists kill not merely to end lives, but to disrupt and end a way of life. With every atrocity, they hope that America, and the world grows fearful, retreating from the world and forsaking each other. They stand against us, the whole of humanity, because to them we stand in their way. 

**We are not deceived by their pretenses to piety.** We have seen their kind before. They are the heirs of all the murderous ideologies of the 20th century. By sacrificing human life to serve their radical visions -- by abandoning every value except the will to power -- they follow in the path of fascism, and Nazism, and totalitarianism. **And they will follow that path all the way, to where it ends: in history's unmarked grave of discarded lies.**

After all that has just passed -- all the lives taken and all the possibilities and hopes that died with them -- it is natural to wonder if America's future is one of fear. Some speak of an age of **MUTANT** terror. I know there are struggles ahead, and dangers to face. But this country will define our times, not be defined by them. As long as the United States of America is determined and strong, this will not be an age of **MUTANT** terror; this will be an age of liberty, here and across the world.

Great harm has been done to all of us. We have suffered great loss. And in our grief and anger we have found our mission and our moment. Freedom and fear are at war. The advance of human freedom -- the great achievement of our time, and the great hope of every time -- now depends **ON US**. Our nation -- this generation -- will lift a dark threat of violence from our people and our future. We will rally the world to this cause by our efforts, by our courage. We will not tire, we will not falter, and we will not fail. 

 It is my hope that in the months and years ahead, life will return almost to normal. We'll go back to our lives and routines, and that is good. Even grief recedes with time and grace. But our resolve must not pass. Each of us will remember what happened this day, and to whom it happened. **We'll remember the moment that the pain came… the moment that hundreds of planes plummeted to the ground, the moment that thousands suddenly died of heart attacks, that millions were injured and thousands killed in automobile, boating, and railway accidents.**  Some will remember an image of a fire, or a story of rescue. Some will carry memories of a face and a voice gone forever.

I will not forget this wound to our country or those who inflicted it. I will not yield; I will not rest; I will not relent in waging this struggle for freedom and security for the American people.

The course of this conflict is not known, yet its outcome is certain**. Freedom and fear, justice and cruelty, have always been at war, and we know that God is not neutral between them.**

 Fellow citizens, we'll meet violence with patient justice -- assured of the rightness of our cause, and confident of the victories to come. In all that lies before us, may God grant us wisdom, and may He watch over the United States of America.   

Thank you. 

~~~~~~~~ 

In a secluded mansion in Westchester, New York, in a room full of cowering students and nervous adults huddled around some wide-screen television sets… there was utter silence.  Professor Charles Xavier looked grimly at his staff and students… still reeling from the loss of Jean Grey, and now doubly reeling from a speech that left a LOT of room for interpretation.  

Will **WE** be considered part of the "terrorist threat"? 

We have Kurt Wagner among us, he mused.  Would we be considered to be supporters of mutant terrorism for harboring him – seeing as Mr. Wagner had attempted to kill the President (albeit, under the control of William Stryker)?   Shaking those thoughts, he turned to his fear-stricken children.  "Everyone, let's get to bed.  Students, you are dismissed.  There is nothing more we can do for now."  Then he did something he swore he'd never do – he used his powers to psychically calm their nerves.  The students, some still visibly crying, began shuffling out of the main rec room and up the stairs to their various sleeping quarters. 

The adults present, Storm, Wolverine, Cyclops, and Kurt Wagner… all remained motionless – caught up in mental speculation of **HOW** exactly the President meant to wage this new **AND VERY PUBLIC** war on mutant terrorism.  "Professor, was it all for nothing?" asked Storm, choking back sobs as she spoke.  "We did all that… lost so much… just to have it blow up in our faces?"

"No!  She didn't die in vain!" shouted Cyclops.  "Jean didn'tdie so we'd just end up fighting people we're supposed to protect… she didn't… she didn't…" He began shuddering – and Logan came and held the man up.  It was the second time in a few hours that these two men had hugged awkwardly.  Cyclops eventually composed himself, silently thanking Logan for his haphazard support.  Scott Summers could still feel her – his Jean.  She was there, in his mind and in his heart.  

Professor Xavier stated, "No Scott, Jean chose to sacrifice herself so that WE could live on.  We must discuss the ramifications of the President's words… but let's do it tomorrow.  People…" he looked at his weary X-Men, "today was probably the first battle in a new war – a war I thought would never come."

"But Professor", asked Storm, "if they only go after mutant terrorists, they won't come after us, will they?"

"Perhaps Storm, perhaps…", he answered, "but in my experience, it is always wiser to prepare for the worst.  A lot of people died today… more than anyone knows – humans and mutants alike.  The President was right about one thing: night has indeed fallen on a different world than the one we were in this morning."

~~~~~~

In a remote island location, Mystique, Magneto, Mortimer Toynbee (aka Toad), and Victor Creed (aka Sabertooth) stared at the satellite television broadcast in stricken silence.  "And so it begins", said a dour faced Magneto.  He was dismayed, not by the President's reaction, but by the hints and details that laced his speech regarding how much the United States government knows about the mutant community.  *How could they know about the Brotherhood… or the EVEN more secretive Hellfire Club… or about ME?* he thought to himself. This was bad… very, very bad.  

"I should have killed McKenna when I had the chance!" said Mystique.

"How were we going to do that exactly?" asked Toad, "turn yourself into a dog and bite him in the ass?"  Creed laughed out loud at the remark.

"Maybe I'd…"

"QUIET!  BOTH OF YOU!" shouted an extremely agitated Magneto.  "The hunt is on… and WE are the prey.  We must prepare ourselves… and turn the hunters in to the hunted!"

"Looks like this was a _shitty_ time to hang with you dudes!"

Everyone just scowled and collectively rolled their eyes at Pyro.


	2. War Drums

**Author's Note:** Lieutenant Peter Lyman is the soldier from X-Men 2 played by Peter Wingfield.  Peter Wingfield is also known for role as the Immortal "Methos" on the T.V. program "Highlander".

**"War Drums"**

{1 day after the events in X2: X-Men United}

The Pentagon, headquarters of the U.S. Department of Defense, is one of the world's largest office buildings. It is twice the size of the Merchandise Mart in Chicago, and has three times the floor space of the Empire State Building in New York. The National Capitol could fit into any one of the five wedge-shaped sections. There are very few people throughout the United States who do not have some knowledge of the Pentagon.  Many have followed news stories emanating from the defense establishment housed in this building. However, relatively few people have had the opportunity to visit.

The Pentagon is virtually a city in itself. Approximately 23,000 employees, both military and civilian, contribute to the planning and execution of the defense of our country.  These people arrive daily from Washington, D.C. and its suburbs. They ride past 200 acres of lawn to park approximately 8,770 cars in 16 parking lots; climb 131 stairways or ride 19 escalators to reach offices that occupy 3,705,793 square feet.

Yet none of these people had any clue as to the meeting that was taking place in a sealed chamber, some 250 feet below the lowest basements of the Pentagon.  The chamber was part of an underground installation that spanned the entire 583-acres of land the Pentagon sits on.  This was the REAL war-room, built just after construction of the Pentagon completed in 1943.  It was a nuclear weapons shelter, chemical and biological weapons shelter, a state of the art command center, elite research facility, and home to the world's finest psionic and magnetic shielding technology.  These technologies were deployed years earlier, when they were considered almost paranoid precautions. But now, noone in the war-room chamber would consider ANY anti-mutant technology the result of paranoia, or lunacy.  

Seated around a large oaken round table were twelve men.  Each man had a flat panel LCD screen in front of him, as well as optical mouse and keyboard.  Behind them, and encircling the room, were vertical columns of Plasma monitors. The monitors were linked to the LCD screens, and could display anything the operators wanted to show the rest of the distinguished gathering. The roster for this urgent meeting was made up of:  President John Armstrong McKenna, Vice President Richard Beatty, Defense Secretary Ronald Dryer, the Joint Chiefs of Staff – General Kevin Foley Jr. (Chairman), General Peter Lacey (Vice Chairman), Lieutenant General Tom Spacek (Director), General Bruce Schoomaker (Chief of Staff of the Army), Admiral Clarence Stark (Chief of Naval Operations), General Phillip Gage (Commandant of the Marine Corp), and General Stephen Cumberland (Chief of Staff of the Airforce).  The other two men seated were Lieutenant Peter Lyman, formerly an operative implanted within Weapon X to monitor and possibly execute William Stryker, and Dr. D.B. Banner, Head of the Mutant Investigations Bureau (M.I.B.).

"Lieutenant Lyman", said President McKenna, "good to see you back from Aikili Lake.  You have our deepest regrets for your men."

"Thank You sir", responded Lyman, "it's too bad that my men weren't wearing their KAM sweaters.  They'd still be alive as well."

"The what?" asked the Vice President.

"KAM Mr. Vice President", interrupted Dr. Banner.  "KAM stands for Kevlar-Adamantium  Mesh. It's a thin undergarment made up of a kevlar-adamantium composite weave. It's the same material we use for the inner lining of the Iron-Man armor."

"And how is that coming along?" asked the Naval Chief.

"Nothing new to report, Admiral", answered Banner. "The preliminary tests are going well. We were able to integrate the psi-scanning technology adapted from the Cerebro designs, but full production of the unit won't start for six-months.  Meanwhile, the last trials are on schedule to conti…"

"Thank you doctor… but frankly…" asked Commandant Gage, "when is this thing gonna be ready to kick some mutant ass?"

"And how many will we initially deploy?" piped in Defense Secretary Dryer.

"About 200 units will be online and combat-ready within a year", said Dr. Banner.

"Well, that's a start.  How about the Project War-Machine upgrades?" asked the Vice President.

"That will take some more time… the weapons on the War-Machine design still put off too much heat for the heat-syncs to properly vent.  Anybody inside the armor will be dead in a matter of minutes.  Until we solve that problem, the War-Machine upgrades are off the table."  The group collectively grumbled.  "But gentlemen, the Iron-Man is still going to be THE premier combat exoskeleton body suit.  Its assault weapons are unmatched, its sensors now include heat, radar, sonar, GPS, and psionic-aided tracking.  The vibranium armor is virtually impenetrable – more stable than adamantium and better able to defuse heat and protect the wearer from extreme temperatures.  And it's completely EMP shielded."

"Sounds promising", said the President, "but what else do we have?  We can't wait a year to start deploying the Iron-Men.  People are dead gentlemen! Thousands died from the attack, and thousands more due to injuries and the riots.  What's the world reporting?"

"It's pretty bad in the Third World, Mr. President", said General Lacey.  "Our best estimates put the Southern Hemisphere and Asian death toll at over a million."

"The Euros aren't doing either", added Director Spacek.  "England, France, Germany, and Italy are looking at least 5,000 dead apiece.  In Spain and Greece there are maybe 2 or 3 thousand more.  Eastern Europe and the Middle East have yet to put together any kind of tally."

"And the Russians?" asked Commandant Gage.

"They're estimating between 20 and 25 thousand deaths, including those from collateral damage – and those numbers may go up."

President McKenna could only shake his head as he processed the magnitude of the numbers of dead.  "We're going to have a global hysterical witch-hunt on our hands if we don't act now.  Our NATO allies are deferring to us to take the lead, because they're aware of our Mutant Protocol research… but they're all asking for fast results… or they're looking at another round of global rioting.  Gentlemen, we need to strike back… fast and decisively… and VERY publicly."

"Exactly", added Chairman Foley.  "Pin-pointing mutant terrorists and eliminating them is now priority one. In previous years we had to rely on surveillance and informants to find mutant groups, but now, thanks to the Cerebro technology, we've been able to more accurately estimate the number of mutants in the world. Are you ready for this?  Less than 250,000.  _Worldwide_.  And only some 10,000 have abilities that would be considered 'super-powers'."

"How's that possible?" asked Defense Secretary Dryer.  "Last year the NSA estimated at least 1 million mutants worldwide."

"Perhaps I can shed some light on this gentlemen", spoke up Dr. Banner. "Look at your monitors or the wall screens– you'll see a map of the world. (While typing) Now, you see these red dots?  Those are mutants. Notice their dispersion."

"What?" gasped the Vice President.

"This can't be accurate", said an incredulous Admiral Stark.  "Most of those dots are…"

"Here in the U.S., then in Europe, Russia, a few in Japan, and China", interrupted Dr. Banner.  "The rest are pretty widely dispersed throughout the world.  In fact, if you'll notice this.. (he typed some more) take a look at the purple dots – they're the super-powered mutants.  Notice how WE have the lion's share."

"But how?" asked the President.

"Doctor", asked General Cumberland, "Why would the mutant gene be so prevalent in these places, but not in other parts of the world?"

"Because, my good General", quipped Dr. Banner, "there **IS NO** mutant gene.  There is no known X-gene. That is mutant-rights propaganda!"

"Impossible", said the Vice President.

"That's incredible… but what about the data?" said Admiral Stark.

"You're full of shit!" barked Commandant Gage.

"No he is not Commandant", said General Foley, "unlike you, he is informed.  Dr. Banner, continue with the presentation."

"Err… thank you Mr. Chairman.  As I was saying, there is no X-gene.  That is, there is no naturally mutated DNA present in mutants.  All the cumulative data just tracks the biochemical and molecular traits of the mutations, but in two and half decades of study, and even after mapping the human genome, there have been no differences found in the DNA of mutant and non-mutant humans."

"Then what the hell causes these freaks to exist, doctor?" asked the Commandant.

"Yes, Dr. Banner", asked the Defense Secretary smiling, and adjusting his glasses.  "What are little mutant boys and girls made of?" There was some scattered laughter among the other men.

"Radioactive pollution and nuclear contamination, Mr. Secretary", said a straight-faced Dr. Banner.  "Look at your screens gentlemen.  (While typing)  You see here the most industrialized nations in the world.  Now look what happens when we super-impose nuclear testing data, weather patterns, solar flare activities, and even EMF concentrations over the last 60 years…"

"Remarkable!" gasped General Schoomaker.  "You mean to say that mutants are here because of the environment?"

"Not quite sir", said Dr. Banner, "But these contaminating factors, along with high concentrations of some unique industrial pollutants in their places of conception,  are the real culprits.  We've also been tracking the age ranges of mutants… and we found a birth boom in the decades following the initial nuclear tests of the post World War II era.  Since then, there has been a severely _STEEP_ drop-off in mutant births.  Basically, we estimate that within 3 decades, there will be virtually no super-powered mutants being born."

"Chalk up another good reason for Non-Proliferation", said Admiral Stark.

"And another good reason to turn North Korea into a parking lot", added Commandant Gage.  

President McKenna pondered the information.  It made winning this conflict all the more important – since future surviving generations would not have to face the same threat levels they now face.  He stared at the screen in front of him, then looked up and met the gazes of his assembled National Security team with weary eyes.  "So… what measures have we taken so far?"

Chairman Foley was the first to speak, "Operation Avenger is on schedule sir.  Every member of the Joint Chiefs is responsible for equipping their military bases, both locally and abroad, with psi-dampening shields and psionic mutant detection grids – much like we already have here at the Pentagon.  How are the preparations coming along gentlemen?"

"Ahead of schedule…" said Admiral Stark.  "In fact, in the last twelve hours, we only have a few naval bases abroad that aren't fully protected.

"Same here", said Commandant Gage (in his southern drawl).  "We're pretty much done, considering we had less bases to work on.  But you know, people will work extra hard after watching their children cry in pain."

"And the rest of you?" asked Chairman Foley.

"The Army is a go, as of 0-700 hours this morning", said General Schoomaker.  "In fact, we're already beginning to help with the civilian deployment."

"All airbases were already equipped with the technology", said General Cumberland, "So we're working with the FAA on setting up the nation's airports.  Also, we're deploying triple the number of Awacs (Airborne Warning And Control System) to provide immediate command and control support for any theater."

Dr. Banner chimed in, "40 new GPS satellites are scheduled to launch in four missions between now and next month.  They're all equipped with cerebro-level tech, so we can pinpoint mutants on a global scale.  The conversion of civilian phone network centers and commercial satellites is on schedule to be completed by next month as well, thanks to the Army's help.  Since we're already deploying this stuff since last year, we just needed to pick up the pace.  Like Gage said, people are EXTRA motivated."

"Mr. President", said Chairman Foley, "The new technology is already fully integrated with existing command and control technology.  We're live.  The M.I.B. is coordinating all mutant investigation through the NSA, FBI, CIA, ATF, and FEMA."  

"Then **Operation Avenger** is a go", said the President.  "You have the green light to find, capture, or kill all mutant terrorists.  Terminate with EXTREME prejudice."

"Lieutenant Lyman", said the Vice Chairman, "Are your squads ready to deploy?"

"Ready and waiting sir", replied Lyman, grinning at the opportunity to get back into action.

"Gentlemen, take note of the screens", said Doctor Banner (while typing).  "As you can see, Lyman's squads will be equipped with a stripped down variant of the Iron-Man designs.  It doesn't have a lot of the outer shell or the advanced weaponry, but the Land Warrior sensors, full KAM armor, and adamantium ammunition will compensate for now.  Also, the helmets are made of the same alloy as Erik Lehnsherr's, thus blocking psychic attack.  These men will act in conjunction with full logistic and strategic support from every branch of the military."

"I like it", said Commandant Gage, "Especially the flag-lookin' design on the chest.  Nice touch.  What's the unit's official name?"

Chairman Foley answered, "The strike team is codenamed **Captain America**."

"Then Gentlemen", the President finally said, "It's done.  Captain America will lead the fight against mutant terrorists.  I hope history remembers what we did here today with fondness…"

~~~~~~~

In Westchester, at Xavier's mansion, another meeting is taking place deep below the surface.  The X-Men have assembled in the Ready-Room, and are heatedly discussing their current circumstances.

"We can't turn over Kurt!" shouted Storm. "He wasn't acting of his own free-will!"

"Storm, I wasn't saying we should definitely do that…", answered Scott, "but given the mood right now, having Kurt here is a serious risk.  The man tried to kill the President…"

"But it wasn't him.  Professor, don't you understand that Kurt is a victim in all this?"

"Yes Storm I do", answered Xavier.  "But Scott presents a good point.  If it weren't for my mentally 'assisting' the local population that this is just a school for Gifted students, we'd have had yesterdays rioters at our footsteps."

"How's that coming along?" asked Logan.

"Well, all I have to do is affect the local area, so we are safe for now.  That's why we have delayed plans to evacuate and relocate the school, at least for now.  Anyone who comes within 2 miles of here just forgets that we're mutants. It's all rather simple."

"But why don'tcha use Cerebro to make EVERYBODY forget?" asked Rogue.

Professor Xavier looked at Scott grimly.  Scott put a hand on his shoulder, as if to reassure him, and Xavier spoke.  "I tried that.  It was my first plan.  Make the world forget the cause of their pain, and then go from there… but I was blocked by something!  It was as if Cerebro was experiencing some kind of interference."

The others looked aghast. "Professor, do you think that Cerebro is damaged?" asked Storm.

"No Ororo", said Xavier.  "The interference came from an OUTSIDE source."

"Anozer mutant, perhapz?" asked Kurt.

"No Kurt", answered Scott. "The source was not a person.  It was like radio static, or a bad TV signal.  The source was definitely artificial."

"Wait a minute", growled Logan, "You tellin' me that they can scramble Chuck's powers like cable?"

"Not at the local level, or in the immediate vicinity", said Xavier – clearly troubled, "but on a wider scale, yes.  In fact, Cerebro has been inoperative since we came back from Canada.  It appears that the world is beginning to react."  The words sunk into the X-Men, like knives.  Stryker already demonstrated that he could block Xavier's powers with a head-worn device – but apparently that was the tip of the iceberg.  The world suddenly became a scarier place.

"Hopefully not OVER-react", said Bobby (aka Iceman).  "I plan to live a long happy life, thank-you-very-much."

"As do we all Mr. Drake", added Professor Xavier, "As do we all."

**Author's Note: **I know there weren't much of the X-Men in the last two chapters, but setting up a good premise takes time.  I promise, the rest of the story is about the the X-MEN, not anybody else (well, maybe Lyman will get a bit of attention too).  


	3. The Calm Before The

{5 days after the events in X2} 

"The Calm Before The…" 

Storm paced the halls of the mansion, arms folded.  She walked briskly, ignoring the students around her.  She had been shutting out most people lately, which wasn't all that odd for her. The woman known as the weather goddess had always kept to herself – shying away from crowds, and seemingly enjoying her moments of solitude.  But that was the difference between any other day and THIS one.  Or rather, everything had changed since that fateful day at Aikili Lake.  The X-Men were in hiatus, per Professor Xavier, until he and Scott could asses the "threat level".  Who knows how long that would last.  Some of the students had already left the mansion, at least the ones who came from homes with parents who loved them.  These kinds of students had been sent to the School for Gifted Youngsters to learn how to better use their mutant abilities.  In all honesty, they were the lucky ones.  At least those students had families and normalcy to which they could return.  The average student at the mansion was a runaway, like Rogue, or a throwaway, like Kurt.  *Kurt*, she thought.  The man was a complete enigma to her.  She couldn't pinpoint when it happened… but since the events at Aikili Lake, or maybe a little before then, she had grown a little attached to him.  She thought that maybe she was just compensating and coping for the death of her best friend – which she was, admittedly – but he DID provide a good shoulder to cry on.  Scott was too wrapped up in his own grief at first, and now he was seemingly oblivious to it – spending almost all his time in the ready-room or with Professor Xavier.  She wondered how he was miraculously dealing with Jean's loss so well.

As she walked by the Professor's office, she saw Logan standing outside the door.  She increased her pace at the sight of Logan, trying to get past him as quickly as possible. Though he was not a stranger, she still didn't know the man all that well.  He was definitely NOT the man she wanted to talk to at this moment anyhow.  As she hastened past him… Logan didn't even look up.

Logan stood at the Xavier's door, pretending to wait for someone… but even Ororo could tell he wasn't.  Wolverine was outright spying.  For Logan to spy on someone, he didn't have to sneak up and get too close to them.  His super-human sense of hearing came in very handy in cases like this.  Normally, Logan would've just barged into the office and demanded to know what was going on, but he relented.  He needed to know the details and possible ramifications of whatever Professor Xavier and Scott Summers were discussing – in full.  Logan hated to be out of the loop, not "in the know", out of control… and lately, Charles Xavier and his trusted first student had been cutting EVERYONE out of the picture.  The command structure hadn't changed, Scott was and is the field leader, but since the Aikili Lake mission Xavier only entertained Scott's counsel (in fact, it was Scott's idea to suspend X-Men operations, despite Logan and Ororo's vocal protests).  Maybe this was their way of coping with Jean's death.  

That was another thing that was bothering Logan.  Everyone was having a hard time dealing with Jean's death in their own way… even Logan.  But Scott Summers, of all people, seemingly had gotten over it before anyone else in the mansion.  He understood that the current atmosphere and situation called for a person with sober judgment… but just a few days ago Scott was a "blubbering mess".  Everyone else was still deeply affected by the loss of Jean – each carrying the load of their emotions around like spare baggage.  

Rogue had almost completely withdrawn into Bobby Drake for emotional support – not that Bobby was complaining.  Still, you could see that the young man was beginning to feel the strain with that responsibility.  Try as he might, he just wasn't equipped to properly counsel Rogue through her emotional malaise (and be expected to deal with his own as well).  Bobby was still feeling depressed about his parents no longer wanting him – they might as well have died too.  Storm coped by secluding herself, occasionally breaking her solace for quiet talks with the religious blue man, Kurt Wagner.  *Maybe she's slipping into depression*, Logan mused, but then quickly dashed that thought.  Ororo was always one of the most stable and sensible people in the entire mansion – even she deserved some time to deal with the loss of her longtime friend.  But in comparing all the different reactions among the students and teachers to Jean Grey's death, and the global disaster that followed… Scott Summers was clearly the standout.  Scott was now THE most levelheaded person in the mansion, promptly getting back his duties crafting multiple strategies for several possible scenarios that could play themselves out in the near future.  In fact, Scott Summers' example was actually helping the students get through their own grief, and helped them stay calm through the rioting, the endless anti-mutant media storm, and every new development of the past few days.

The contrast in Scott's demeanor in the hours after Aikili Lake and now just 5 days later was REMARKABLE, to say the least.  At first, Scott could hardly think about Jean without losing his composure, but now, once again, the "fearless leader" was back in full swing.  What changed?  Logan knew that something was going on… and he was sure that these meetings with Professor Xavier had something to do with it.  He knew Xavier was grief-counseling him – as, in fact, the telepath was counseling almost everyone else in the mansion – but Scott's turnaround was strikingly swift and staggeringly dramatic.

Logan could hardly hear anything through the doors of the office though – they had surely been insulated (probably a pre-cautionary measure meant to deliberately counter Wolverine's powers – damn Scooter).  So Logan pressed his ears against the fine wood grain of the door, and he heard the faintest wisp… of a man crying.  It was Scott Summers. Logan could clearly discern that Scott Summers was inside that office crying, likely bawling his eyes out.  He estimated that due to the insulation on that door, and the walls, the man inside had to be screaming to the top of his lungs.

Indeed, inside the office, Scott Summers was sitting down in a chair opposite of Charles Xavier in his wheelchair.  Cyclops was gripping the armrests of his seat so tightly that the delicate wood had begun to splinter.  His teeth were clenched, and his face contorted as waves of pain, guilt, and anguish racked his body.  "I can't take this Professor!" he yelled through gritted teeth, "WHY DID SHE DO IT!?!? WHY?  We could've saved her… we could've saved ourselves… SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO LEAVE THE JET (to use her powers)!"  The man screamed as tears rolled down his already soaked face.  The tears fell like small waterfalls from under his visor.  Scott wailed out loud repeatedly, and placed his head in his hands.  After a few minutes of non-stop screaming, a very sympathetic Charles Xavier wheeled his chair closer to his student. 

Placing a hand on Cyclops shoulder as the younger man shuddered, Xavier spoke in slow and soothing tones. "Feel it all", he said, "You have to feel it all in its full capacity.  Vent everything you have inside you.  But now… It's time for you to regain control… to use your analytical mind to take the lead in your psyche… to rationally understand that Jean is gone, and the one thing she wants you to do… is the hardest thing… to LIVE for her… mourning her… missing her… but LIVING for her…"  Scott's crying stopped as quickly as it began.  To the untrained eye, one would have thought that Xavier was hypnotizing his prize student… but what was occurring was beyond the perception of our five natural senses.  Charles Xavier was treading through the INNER recesses of Scott Summers' convoluted mind.  Like a musical conductor, he was taking the separate and inconsonant pieces of Scott's mind and arranging them back into the well-ordered symphony of ideas, thoughts, and stability that they once were.  This was no mere counseling technique, it was a step-by-step mental rebuilding.

The ethical concerns regarding this procedure had been set aside.  Scott Summers voluntarily asked for this procedure, and, in fact, insisted upon it.  He knew Professor Xavier would allow him to vent, be depressed, and carry on like that for as long as he wanted… but Scott also knew that this was no time for the X-Men's field leader to be crippled by his own emotional pain.  He knew that the gathering political storm would require him to make a staunch recovery.  There was simply no time for emotional indulgences.  He overcame Professor Xavier's protests-to-the-contrary, and convinced the man to use his powers to intervene in Scott's grief cycle by accelerating it, and thus let Scott feel the full weight of his grief in a matter of minutes.  Full and unbridled anguish, unfettered by the logical, sequential, and rational parts of his mind… he was free to vent all his emotional fury in an exhausting torrent of crying, wailing, and violent exposition.  It was like depression on steroids!  But Scott needed to do it.  The first session had lasted two full hours, but the very next day it was a half hour.  Now it only took a few minutes for Scott to gain his composure – aided by Xavier, and he knew that soon he would move beyond grief to acceptance.  These sessions also helped Xavier perfect the technique, in case it would have to be used on someone else – perhaps a suicidal person, or a deeply depressed person who was becoming a danger to others.

Logan backed away from door, not knowing why the crying and wailing had so abruptly ceased.  His patience had just about ceased as well, but before he could barge into the office… the door abruptly opened.  Cyclops was standing in the doorway, tight-lipped as ever, giving Logan an interesting glare.  "May I help you, Logan?"

"Yeah, one-eye…", answered Logan, "Let's cut the crap and get right to it… what the hell is going on in there between you and Chuck?"  Logan jabbed an angry finger into Scott's chest.

"I don't know what you're…."

"Don't lie to me Cyclops!"  Logan's feral eyes flashed with anger… and something more, but not even he knew exactly what it was.  Now he gripped the front of Scott's shirt with both fists, pulling him upwards, nearly lifting Cyclops off the ground.  "I heard you wailin' in there like the end of the world… then all of a sudden NOTHIN'!  What the hell are you and Chuck up to?"

"Let. Go. Of. Me."  Scott spoke in an even tone, but every word dripped from his lips, and red flashes from behind his visor accentuated every syllable.  An eerie glow began to build behind his ruby-quartz lenses.  At first it was soft, and pulsating, but soon it began to grow in intensity.

"Logan, drop him… now… or I'll simply make you" ordered Professor Xavier.  After another second, Logan complied, releasing Scott – who landed with a soft thud.  "Come in both of you, and have a seat."  The two men entered the room and sat at opposite sides of Xavier's desk.  Xavier wheeled himself around as if to situate himself between them, but then he abruptly kept moving until he was out of the office.

"Professor, where are you going?" asked Scott.

"You gentlemen need to talk about this on your own, without an audience."

"Aren't you afraid I'll loose control and kill him?"  Logan said, pointing to Scott and sneering.

"Logan, you'll do no such thing… and the two of you NEED to talk.  You will undoubtedly find out you have more in common than you care to imagine."  With that, the Professor was promptly gone from his office, closing the door tightly shut, and leaving behind a very silent un-dynamic duo.

After three minutes of deafening silence… "You first."

"You have SUCH a way with words, Logan…"

"Just shut-up and get to the part where you and 'Wheels' act like you're better than the rest of us!"  Logan spat.  "Everyday we watch the damn television… hear the Prez or one of his flunkies make speeches in the UN, or CNN, or some other bullshit… and all you and Chuck do is talk about it WITHOUT the rest of us!  Dammit!" Logan slammed his fist on the exquisitely decorated oaken desk, " we deserve to know what the hell you guys are gonna do about it!"

"Logan, when we have a proper course of action… we'll let the team know.  If you need to know NOW, we're just waiting and seeing if we have to evac this place.  You want full details?  I can show you in the ready-room."

"Is that why you're bawlin' like a little girl?" Logan gritted his teeth.  Scott just stared at the floor, in silent concentration.    "Don't you do this, One-Eye!  Answer me… why are you all Mr. Cool… while the rest of us are tearin' our hearts out?!?!"

"Logan, I…"

"You know… I always wondered why she chose you… You were such a tight-ass…" Logan clenched his fists so tight that you see the points of his sheathed claws almost poking through the skin between his knuckles.  Scott would've interrupted, but the sight in front of him floored him.  The Wolverine, the most dangerous man in the mansion, the man with no fear… or at least no manners… was getting a little teary-eyed, with lips quivering as he spoke.  The gruff man's voice almost broke as he continued his monologue.  "You ain't even losing sleep are ya?  Are ya?" he yelled.

Scott didn't reply.  He would let the man have his peace.

"Well, you know what?  I can't sleep. Dammit, I can't sleep at all.  Every stinking night I get as much booze into me as I can and try to forget."  Logan wiped his face.  "You know how much a man like me has to drink to catch a buzz, let alone get freakin' drunk?"  Scott mulled that over in his mind, but let Logan continue without saying a word.  "Everybody misses her One-Eye.  Jeanie's gone and everybody misses her." Now Logan actually allowed a small tear to come out of his eye.  Scott may never let him live this down, but he didn't care anymore.  Without alcohol to deaden the pain, it overtook him, causing his voice to stammer as he tried to talk.  "You know what eats me up, Bub?  It's that I'm not good enough?"

"What?"

"I'm not good enough. You were right Cyclops.  Jean chose you.  I never had a real chance… because when it all boils down to it – I'm not worth the time.  Jean's gone, and this place is a wreck… If you or Chuck, or anybody else was gone it'd be the same… but me?  I'm worthless.  I'm a homeless bum with a bunch o' knives in his arms.  I leave for six months and the one kid who actually liked me found a boyfriend".  He chuckled bitterly.  "I'm a dangerous freak - That's why Jeannie didn't…"

"Not true at all." Scott said. Logan was about to start up again, but Scott cut him off, "Shut up Logan!"  The Wolverine wasn't expecting that.  In fact, he was so emotionally spent from his little tirade that he really didn't have it in him to respond to Scott's sudden burst of fury.  "Logan, you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"Then ma.."

"I said SHUT UP!"  This time it was Scott who pounded his fist on the desk.  He shook his head until the glow from behind his read spectacles subsided.  Taking in a deep, measured breath, he continued, "Logan, I'm sorry if I'm not falling apart like the rest of the team, or the school, or you…  but don't you EVER think that I'm EVER going to get over Jean.  You want to know what me and 'Chuck' are doing everyday?"  The volume of his voice was beginning to rise steadily.  "I cry.  I claw my guts out, and then I cry some more.  And then I tear this office apart and try to kill myself so I can be with her!  But then… the Professor shuts it off – turns my tears,  my anger… into something else.  I still feel the loss, but I can accept it long enough to be the leader right now.  The team… this school… needs me to be 'Cyclops'.  I have to help the others, and get them through their pain, because we're going to need each other now more than ever.  The Professor won't do for them what he's doing for me!"  Scott let out a deep breath, feeling his composure returning.

"Why not?  We need to get over this too?  How come you rate and I… I mean… WE don't?"

"Because I'm feeling something beyond natural pain.  It doesn't help that she's up here", he said pointing to his head.

"Yeah, I think about Jeanie too…"

"No Logan", Scott said, "It's not that I think ABOUT her… It's that she's in here thinking WITH me!"  

Logan's jaw dropped open at the statement.  "What are ya talkin' about?"

"When Jean died…", he paused, "Right before Jean died, after the waters had already hit her… she gave me a last gift."  His voice trailed, and he had to steady himself.  It helped him to see the look on Logan's face when he met his gaze. Gone was the contempt that Logan usually reserved for him – and in its place was a look of real, unmistakable, rapt attention.  "She sent me everything that was inside her… her memories, her thoughts, some of her personality… it was too much Logan.  I couldn't stop thinking about her… with her… through her…  Do you know that I lapsed into a coma the day after we came back from Aikili Lake?"

"What? When?"

"It was the next morning.  I just didn't want to wake up.  I wanted to stay inside my mind, with Jean.  The Professor burst into my room when I didn't respond and he forced me out of it.  I've never seen him like that, Logan.  He was actually crying."

Logan chuckled a bit, "I can't picture Chuck crying."

"He can cry Logan, believe me… He doesn't lose it, but he can cry.  And he was holding my hand tight, and telling me that he wasn't about to lose BOTH his children on the same day.  That's why he's willing to try these sessions with me.  I'm dealing with an unnatural level of pain… especially for a non-telepath."

"Hmmm… Chuck really cares about you doesn't he?"

"We're family Logan.  Not blood related, but since I'm an orphan, he's the only father I've ever known.  He doesn't have any natural children, so Jean and I were kind of like… surrogates."

"Must be nice to have a family…" Logan's eyes had a distant look about them.  Scott noticed the man beginning to teeter back into his self-loathing, and so he spoke the words that he knew Logan needed to hear more than any other.  Despite how much it hurt him to utter them, Logan needed to know, now more than ever.

"She loved you Logan."  Wolverine snapped his head up at the statement.  He looked at Cyclops incredulously as the younger man continued.  "I have her up here, remember (pointing to his head)?  She loved you.  Not like she loved me, but let me tell you, you made quite an impression on Jean.  She actually wondered what would've happened if she met you BEFORE me."

"That's so?"  Logan mulled over the words for a minute, then visibly brightened at the information.  "You not making this up are you, kid?"

"Trust me Logan, I take NO pleasure in sharing this. I used to hate you… for shaking my confidence with Jean… but now… I know she wouldn't have EVER left me… and Jean's influence actually makes me LIKE you… somewhat." Scott had to stifle a laugh when he saw the look of sheer terror on Wolverine's face.  

Logan took a step back. "Whoa there… I ain't gettin' into…  I mean… you ain't gonna… you keep your hands where I can see 'em, Bub!"  At this, both men started to laugh – first Scott, who couldn't contain himself, and then Logan.  It was good to laugh.  Noone was laughing too much at the mansion these days.  "Scott (*I'm calling him Scott now?*)…"

"Yeah (*He's calling me Scott now?*)"

"You think Chuck would consider that mind stuff on me… at least… so I don't drink so much… you know… cuz of Jean?"

"Yes Logan", I think the Professor would be ok with it, since it's your choice to do it."

The two men spent most of the day talking and spending time together.  They even jogged around the mansion grounds, and then broke into a full blown race - their competitiveness getting the better of them.  The students, and other team members, were surprised at dinner when the two of them walked into the dining hall and sat down at the same table – friendly conservation being exchanged the entire time.  Professor Xavier was more than pleased with the tenor of this budding friendship.  His calculations were correct, that Jean's loss and absence would actually work to bring them closer since they both shared Jean's heart.  This would only be for the good – since the team needed to be even MORE cohesive now that they may be facing a government sponsored backlash.  So far the authorities had only given speeches and 'reassurances', but the vagueness that laced every well-crafted sentence in those press conferences was downright suspicious.  The real story lied in the fact that whole regions of the country were beginning to be psychically "shut off" from him.  At first, it was the immediate area and Washington DC, but then it was the entire State, then the whole northeast region.  He soon found it impossible to communicate with a few other telepathic mutants who resided around the country.  The real worry came from Cerebro.  Not only could he not use it, but he stopped trying to use it altogether when he began to feel as if something was actually TRACKING HIM as he wore the helmet.  Whatever was truly going on, no amount of politically correct platitudes would convince him that all was well – or that all the government efforts were purely defensive.

He noticed some students call some others out of the dining hall and into the main rec area, where the largest television sets were.  Soon, he noticed other students leaving their dinners and heading over there as well.  When his X-Men began to join them, he quickly left his dinner and followed the multitudes.  He made his way out of the dining hall, past hastily strewn plates and cutlery.  He made his way down the immaculately decorated passageway, recently restored since the attacks a few days back.  He stopped at the packed-out rec room, and noticed the disheveled looks on most of the students' faces.  "What is going on here?"

"Look at the news, Professor", said a stunned Ororo, pointing at the TV screen.  It was turned to FoxNews, a cable channel that was displaying burning buildings surrounded by soldiers. Under the picture, was a caption that read "FIRST STRIKE."  The students fell into a hushed silence as the "on the scene" broadcaster reiterated his monotonous report.

"We are live at the scene of what use to be the head-quarters of O.P.R.A. Industries.  As you can see behind me, there isn't much left of the structure… the entire building looks like it was gutted from the inside out. The details of what happened are still unclear, but obviously something big went down here." 

_"Bob"_, said the news anchor, _"Has anyone given you any details at all?"_

_"No they haven't. Everyone here is telling me that mum's the word.  They won't even let us get any closer than this makeshift perimeter, but you can see the billowing smoke behind me… where the buildings of this technology company once stood and…"_

_"Wait Bob", _interrupted the news anchor_, "We have to cut you off and go to the White-House press room where Defense Secretary Ronald Dryer is about to make a statement regarding the compound.  Let's tune in…"_

The scene broadcast was a now familiar one.  Huddled reporters were crowded into the White-Hose press room, where behind an adorned podium stood the stoic visage of the Secretary of Defense, Ronald Dryer.  His well-tailored suits, and his civilian garb, couldn't mask the subtle aggressive gaze from the old warrior's spectacled eyes.  His ashen gray hair made him look more like a statesman than a war-chief, but the hardness of his features gave away that this man was made for this: a conflict with stakes too high for the faint of heart.  Standing next to him was an unidentified man dressed in military attire, along with several other military officers.

"I have been instructed by the President to address you prior to his speech, which he'll make shortly.  I'm here to reassure the American people about what has been going on, and let them know what has taken place.

Today, just one hour ago, we have struck a first blow against mutant terrorism.  Intelligence reports, and evidence gathered before and after the global psychic-attacks, revealed that a top-level meeting of the secretive Hellfire Club was taking place in the O.P.R.A. Industries compound.  De-classified documents will soon show that the head of O.I., a man named Gideon Chase, was actually a member of this mutant terrorist group… funneling money, equipment, and other resources to them for quite some time. 

The raid was the first official military action under Operation Avenger.  Just as the President has promised, a new anti-terror force, codenamed Captain America, has led the fight against mutant terror.  These sentinels of freedom have struck at the heart of one of the most villainous and murderous mutant terror groups on the planet – taking down four of its highest-level members.  In fact, intelligence revealed that this meeting was being attended by THE top leaders of this worldwide organization.  And we have good news.  The official leadership of the Hellfire Club is believed to have perished during this raid: they included Sebastian Shaw, chief executive officer and principal shareholder in Shaw Industries, Inc… Gideon Chase, the head of O.I… Emma Grace Frost, a top administrator in the prestigious Massachusetts Academy… and at least one other top-level lieutenant in the organization, identified in intelligence reports only as 'Black Rook', his rank within the Hellfire Club. The raid also has provided us with a treasure trove of information as to the workings of the inner circle of this group, and more raids are being planned at this very moment.

I'll turn over the podium to General Thaddeus Ross, who will brief you on the details of tonight's raid… General Ross?"

As the General droned on about what happened when, in purely sanitized and prepared statements, Professor Xavier issued a mental command to his X-Men: Meet him in the Ready-Room immediately.  The X-Men, and their leader, excused themselves from the rec area, which was now over-flowing with students.  They were careful not to show their overwhelming concern in front of the students.  Nightcrawler, who wasn't officially a member of the team, was also asked to attend the meeting.  He just looked nervously, eyes darting from left to right, and then disappeared with a strange 'puff' of smoke, leaving behind the customary scent of sulphur and brimstone.  The rest of the students looked on at the news report, shocked beyond words.  They knew that if the X-Men had been called away, this must have meant danger.  Piotr Rasputin, the mutant known as Colossus, gathered some of the younger ones to himself.  He had become a hero in the eyes of many, helping the kids survive during those couple of days that the kids had to live in the grounds outside the mansion – for fear of returning.  Colossus was almost an X-Man already, and Cyclops had told him that his membership application may have to be unduly accelerated.  Piotr was about reassure the kids that there was probably nothing wrong, when his mind was filled with Xavier's mental voice.  "We need you as well, Mr. Rasputin."  He got up and looked at young Sam Guthrie, nodding to him as if telling him to 'hold the fort', and walked out the rec room.  Whatever it was, he knew that reassuring the other students was now out-the-window.  

"I left Russia for this?" he said to himself, as he boarded the elevator, which would take him to the X-Men's ready room.

**Author's Note**:  I am looking for beta-readers for this story outline – especially the 'shipper' stuff. It's going to be about 8-10 chapters, and I'm consuming too much time proof-reading it myself.  Prefer authors or avid readers of X-Men fics.  Email if interested.


	4. Cry Havoc

"**Cry Havoc**"

Erik Lehnsherr sat on his ornately decorated steel throne.  The throne-like chair rested in the corner of his palatial observation lounge.  The décor in the room was almost entirely made of steel and iron.  Most of the furniture was constructed out of old-world wrought-iron bars.   The iron was decoratively wrapped in silvery faux vines whose shiny petals glistened in the soft fluorescent lighting that bathed the room.  Erik looked on at his enormous television monitor with intense disgust – a scowl painted across his face, his features contorted in a painful grimace.  The old man's bones ached, as did his weary mind.  But he took in the images of the burning buildings, twisted corpses wrapped in body-bags, and jubilant soldiers.  As he had done so many times in the past, he filed the visuals away with all other such imagery… in the darkened annals of his aged memory.  He would have wept, had he still been able to, but the time for tears had long passed into the dustbin of life – driven there by jack-booted thugs in gray cotton uniforms. 

Raven Darkholme, aka Mystique, blinked back a tear, her lithe azure body sitting at the edge of the old man's desk.  "Emma…" she softly whispered, as she placed her hand over her gaping mouth – thoughts of a lifelong friend swimming wildly in her head.  Next to her sat a glum-faced Mortimer Toynbee (Toad), whose usually insatiable wit was deadened by the gloomy atmosphere.  Standing behind them, Victor Creed, the mutant known as Sabretooth,  loomed menacingly... pacing back and forth and cursing silently to himself.  Off in the far end of the steel-laden room, in a less stately silver chair, sat the youthful mutant named St. John Allerdyce.  Pyro, as he was also known, fumbled nervously with his lighter, flicking the flame over and over and over again.  "Stop doing THAT!" yelled Mystique from across the room.

"Yeah kid", stated Mortimer, "that noise is beginning to bother the HELL out o' me."

"Let the child cope in his own way", said Magneto, as he stood up from his throne and gazed at his minions.  "The war is under way… and I fear it's finally upon us."  His announcement was an under-statement.  In the last five days since the incident in Aikili Lake, there had been riots in every major city of the world, residual violence against any known mutants, several prominent mutant groups had gone into hiding, and the U.S. government (with the UNANIMOUS blessing of the entire international community) had launched a military offensive called Project Avenger.

Unbeknownst to him and his cohorts, two SH-60 Seahawks moved silently over the rolling waves of the waters outside the island fortress.  The _Seahawk_ is a twin-engine helicopter. It is used for anti-submarine warfare, search and rescue ops, drug interdiction, anti-ship warfare, cargo lift, and other special operations. They also extend the range of a  warship's radar capabilities… as they were doing today.  Some 120 miles away, unseen to the naked eye, were the USS Normandy and the USS Anzio – Aegis missile cruisers.  

The Aegis cruiser is a warship designed as a total weapon system, from detection to kill. The heart of the system is an advanced, automatic detect and track, multi-function, phased-array radar: the AN/SPY-1. This high-powered (four megawatt) radar is able to perform search, track, and missile guidance functions simultaneously - with a track capacity of over 100 targets.  But on this day, these warships were only tracking one, un-moving target.  They are part of the Naval taskforce - codenamed **Submariner - **entrusted to locate and destroy **ISLAND-M**, the hidden fortress and headquarters of the Brotherhood of Mutants.  The taskforce was being aided by GPS satellites equipped with a CLS (Cerebro Locator Sensor) array – a system that was launched and brought online as part of Project Avenger.  The CLS satellites blanketed sections of the ocean with Cerebro-psionic signals, and relayed the information back to the cruisers' computer-aided tracking sensors.  The computer-based command and decision element is the core of the Aegis combat system. This interface makes the Aegis combat system capable of operating simultaneously against a multi-mission threat: anti-air, anti-surface, and anti-submarine warfare. Locating ISLAND-M actually proved daunting at first.  The locale was seemingly shielded from the CLS array, and thus invisible.  The structure also seemed to have a stealthy, anti-radar cross-section – so definitively identifying it with active radar was also proving impossible.  

Three days into the search, Dr. D.B. Banner, head of the M.I.B., came up with a brilliant idea; that was quickly relayed to Admiral Stark at Naval High Command.  Basically, his idea was to intensify the CLS signals, so as to form a psionic topographic map of their targeted region.  At that point even lower life forms, from fish to sea-algae, were being detected and mapped by the tracking sensors.  Normally, this overload of data would only confuse the CLS relays, making pinpointing individual targets implausible – but that was Dr. Banner's point.  His plan was not to look for a target… but look to for a "hole" in the psionic blanket.  In fact, he gave specific instructions to look for a LARGE psionic hole in the sensor sweep.  Locate the epicenter of the hole, according to Dr. Banner, and ISLAND-M will be found.  The plan was ingenious and brilliant… and immediately paid off dividends.

On the USS Normandy, resting on the landing platform, was another SH-60 Seahawk helicopter.  Inside the iron bird, eleven men were making final preparations and inspections to their gear and weapons.  They were dressed in their dark body armor, which had an emblem of a large star, encircled by red, white, and blue stripes, on their chests.  Small flags adorned their shoulders, as did a white letter "A" set in a blue circle on the front of their dark helmets.  Some wore flag bandanas under their helmets, or tied to their arms.  The men of Captain America sat patiently - listening to their commanding officer, Lieutenant Peter Lyman, give them last-minute instructions.

"As soon as positive contact is made, the cruisers will attempt to eliminate the target at range.  We will immediately deploy to capture survivors and pacify any residual resistance."  Lyman's voice strained as he tried to speak over the din of the helicopter's engines – which were beginning to fire up.

A large bald man, with tattoos on his cranium, was fastening on the chinstraps for his helmet.  "So we ain't going in first?  We just mopping up?" he barked angrily.  

"Turk… I told you already…" Lyman's patience was wearing thin from having to repeat himself to the gruff older man.  He understood Turk's "eagerness" to be on the frontline.  The man had a personal vendetta against the Brotherhood – since his father and brother, who both worked as security guards, were killed at Liberty Island.  "This mutant group is headed by Erik Lehnsherr, one of the most powerful _known_ mutants on the planet.  The only way to get after them is to make sure he's taken care of.  Sit tight and relax… It'll be over soo.." but he was cut off by the noise of a MK 26 Guided Missile Launcher spinning port, and launching its SM-2 missiles.  "Go get 'em."  The man smiled at his squad mates.  

The U.S. Navy's Standard Missile 2 (SM-2) is the world's premier surface-to-air air defense weapon.  Its primary missions are: (1) fleet area air-defense and ship self-defense, (2) extended area air-defense, and (3) anti surface-ship operations. SM-2's use tail controls and a solid fuel rocket motor for propulsion and maneuverability, and, in addition, this extended range missile has a booster with thrust vector controls. All are guided by: inertial navigation and mid-course commands from the Aegis Weapons System (AWS), semi-active radar, and an IR (Infra-Red) sensor for terminal homing.   ISLAND-M had proven immune to detection by ANY of these sensors, but it was now being "painted" by two of the taskforce's lead Seahawks – using two infrared targeting beams.  The SM-2 missile, with a range of 100-200 nautical miles (115-230 statute miles), skimmed the surface of the ocean – heading for its intended target.

Magneto only had a split second to erect a magnetic barrier some 1000 meters outside the outer wall of the fortress, as soon as he heard the missile's rocket thrusters.  Still, the shockwave from the missile's explosion rocked the observation lounge where he was standing.  "Creed, get the others to the lower levels!"  He again turned to look out the window of the lounge and could only fathom a small gasp as he saw not one, or two… but over a DOZEN flickering lights from rocket thrusters – all homing in on the same spot: right where HE was standing.  As the first three missiles struck the barrier, the old man strained as he tried to keep the transferred kinetic energy of the blast at bay… as the next four missiles slammed into the barrier, the graying mutant's knees' buckled and gave way… as the next two missiles detonated their blast-fragment warheads, Magneto crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from his nose – but still conscious.  Knowing that at least three more missiles were on their way, he magnetically "shoved" himself out of the lounge, down the hallway, and to the rear of the base's main chamber.  

As the missiles slammed into ISLAND-M, the steel fortress rocked violently, as red-hot fragments of iron and steel ripped through the facility.  Flames erupted from what use to be the outer walls, observation lounge, and main chamber.  Eight more missiles pounded into the inner sanctums of the base, disintegrating the living quarters, common areas, and storage warehouses of the facility.  Mystique and Creed pulled a large iron grate from the top of Magneto's prone body.  The blue woman had a large gash on the side of her head, blood matting her orange hair.  Creed was already healing from his injuries, and Pyro was standing behind him, holding his arm as if it were broken.  "Where is Toad?" Magneto coughed out.  His only answer was the tear that suddenly streaked down from Mystique's yellow eyes.  He nodded knowingly, unconsciously muttering a silent prayer for one of his most trusted confidants.  

Creed perked his ears up, and looked up at the ceiling – his heightened senses already hearing the low whirring of helicopter engines and rotor blades.  He smelled the oil and powder associated with weapons and guns… lots of guns.  Turning to the Brotherhood, he growled, "We got company… one or two choppers on their way!"

Magneto used his powers to free himself from the rubble, but howled in pain when he tried to stand up.  He levitated himself up, and was concentrating with all his mental faculties to try and keep pressure off of his crushed and ruptured knee.  "Quick, let's get to the escape hatch… it's through this rear chamber."  He pointed to a narrow passageway at the near wall.  The four mutants made their way across the darkened area to the opening… that was almost completely sealed with steel debris.  Magneto furled his brow as he concentrated on the wreckage.  The iron and steel girders budged, then jolted, then spread out to either side, parting to make way for the haggard quartet. 

Mystique, Magneto, and Pyro had already entered the escape chute when Creed, who was the last in line into the dark corridor, heard some voices coming from behind him.  "Target in sight!" 

Creed covered the opening with his body – and paid for it with a back full of adamantium tipped bullets.  Magneto managed to use some debris to provide him with VERY temporary cover.  Sabretooth clenched his teeth in pain and managed to say, "Get out… I'll hold them off… this sheet o' metal ain't going to hold for another couple seconds."

"NO!" gasped Mystique, reaching out to the large man.  "Victor… no… don't do this…"

"You won't get down the chute unless I do this…"

"Victor please…", she pleaded as she shook her head in disbelief.  Tears were actually flowing from the woman.  The woman who was lethal in combat, cunning as a viper… did have a FEW things in life she cared about.

"Raven…",Creed's eyes momentarily softened – making him look a lot more like a man, and much less like an animal.  He placed Mystique's trembling hand in his own large, paw-like hand.  Giving her a wry smile, he said, "You know… it could've been good."

"Yeah….", she gasped softly, barely breathing, "real good".  She nodded, biting her lips… and then reached up and kissed the large man like her life depended on it.  Their lips ate into each other – each person wanting this to last forever. It was a kiss to make up for opportunities missed, a kiss to say things that words never did, and never would… it was a desperate goodbye… as desperate as the two people locked in the bitter embrace of their star-crossed passion. 

It was Creed who finally, gently, pushed Mystique away.  "Take her… keep her safe…" And the other two companions grabbed Mystique by the arms.  Lips trembling, she acquiesced at first… but as the platform began descending she shook her head and shoved Pyro into Magneto.  Normally, Magneto could just pull the boy off of him, but, in his weakened state, the extra weight of the boy was too much.  The two men crashed into each other, allowing Mystique to vault herself and shimmy up the chute, back to Creed.  "What are you doing?  Are you crazy?"

"Choosing when to die… and who to die with…" She looked intently into his large eyes.  Silent communication passed between them.  Friendship, affirmation, kinship… love… maybe some combination of the four.  The two comrades-in-arms embraced each other as the shoddily erected steel wall was demolished.  The tender scene of the two mutants momentarily halted the advancing soldiers.

"Targets acquired!"

~~~~~~~

Magneto and Pyro continued to descend down the chute which lead to a magnetically sealed underwater corridor.  The corridor contained a seemingly useless vehicle, unless the passenger could manipulate magnetic forces and send it careening through the tube, which stretched for hundreds of miles, and ended up on a secluded corner of the U.S.'s Atlantic coast.  

Pyro winced as he barely heard the screams of soldiers and the crackle of gunfire.  It lasted a few minutes, then all fell eerily silent.  Realizing that his two mutant comrades had met their end, the young man, who until now had kept up a strong appearance, slid down the side of the chamber.  He held his head in his hands, and began sobbing.  "It wasn't supposed to be like this… not like this…"

"There now boy…" Magneto propped himself up using his own powers.  He then sat down on the opposite end of the platform, which continued descending toward the ocean floor. Gazing warily at the crying youth, he let his mind wonder over the words of Shakespeare… Wafting over the Bard's most legendary prose, he muttered whimsically… "Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood… Over thy wounds now do I prophesy… A curse shall light upon the limbs of men… And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge… shall, in these confines, with a monarch's voice **_Cry 'Havoc', and let slip the dogs of war_**!"

**Author's note:** Coming next - The X-Men get into action, risking widening the conflict to rescue a survivor. Kurt and Ororo discover something about themselves, and… the rest is a surprise… till next time!


	5. Requiem

"Requiem" 

"There they go", said a tall and lanky boy.  His blonde bangs hung over his face in an un-kept manner.   As he and his rotund friend looked out one of the windows of the mansion, they watched the X-Men's Blackbird climb into the air.

"Where do you think they're going?"  The portly young-man spoke between heaping mouthfuls of potato chips – leaving an unsightly mess of crumbs all over the floor.  Had the two teens not been glued to their window perch, they would've seen the massive shadow of the young man who now towered over them.

In a slight Russian accent, Piotr Rasputin spoke, "THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS."  The two boys snapped their heads around, startled by the booming voice behind them.  They gasped in awe at the sight before them: Piotr Rasputin, also known as Colossus, dressed from head to toe in an X-Men uniform.  Even without being sheathed in his organic-steel skin, the young man was still an imposing sight – standing at 6' 2'', weighing a modest 240lbs of chiseled muscle. 

"Holy SH*T, Peter", the blonde teen said.  "They made you an X-Man?"

"Yes we have", said Professor Charles Xavier as he came out from behind Colossus on his motorized wheelchair.  "And watch your language Mr. Guthrie."

"Sorry Professor." Sam Guthrie looked at the floor – his face flush with embarrassment.

"Mr. Rasputin is officially on the X-Men roster… on the same probationary basis as Rogue and Bobby Drake.  If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to" The Professor wheeled past Colossus, spun around, and headed out of the room.

"So… they let you into the club?" asked the heavier young man – still munching away on his potato chips. 

"Yeah.  They said I earned a spot on the team because I kept YOUR fat ass out of trouble.  Come on man, clean up your mess, Freddie."  Colossus pointed at the ever-growing pile of chip crumbs on the floor.  Guthrie just laughed and giggled at the comment.

"Don't hate me cuz I'm beautiful", said Fred J. Dukes.  And with that, he extended his stomach so that it reached the pile of crumbs on the floor.  When the stomach reached the floor, it began to pick the crumbs up and move them up his shirt, up to the boy's chin and into his mouth, where he ate them.

"Dude, you're disGUSting," laughed Sam.

"What'd you expect from the BLOB", added Colossus, who was also visibly affected by Fred Duke's mutant power.  Fred was given the nickname "Blob", much to his chagrin.  Everyone knew he could control every muscle in his round body – which meant that he could use his stomach, or any other body part, like an appendage.  What they didn't know was that Fred was insanely strong… and practically immovable once he planted himself on something solid.

"Anytime you want to get your ass kicked, pretty boy… just bring it!" replied Fred.  

"Yeah like you could", Piotr poked Fred in the stomach, at which point, the folds of his belly wrapped around and held his hand.  Piotr blanched at the sight of his hand enveloped in the young man's stomach.  He went to pull it out… but he couldn't.  Fred Duke just wore a sly smirk on his face, but said nothing.  Piotr tried harder to pull it out, but the fat guy's belly wouldn't let go.  Sam Guthrie stared wide-eyed and amazed at the display of strength.  "Ok, blob-butt, you asked for it."  And with that, Piotr's began to glisten… becoming sheathed in his organic steel skin. In this form, Piotr's strength became super enhanced.  He was able to pick up cars and juggle them like tennis balls (a feat which impressed the girls to no end).  He gave his arm a mighty yank, which made Mr. Duke wiggle violently… but that was it.

"HOLY SH*T", said Sam, mouth wide open in pure shock.  He watched as Piotr, in full gleaming steel, tried to jerk his hand free from its gastric prison.  Fred Duke just leered at Piotr as the large young man repeatedly tried to escape, then, all of a sudden, let him go.  Piotr fell back, staring at the cherubic young man in astonishment. 

"Wanna try that again?  How about two out of three?"  Fred Duke put down his chips on a nearby end table. 

Piotr backed away a little and said, "No way.  The thought of touching you again ain't my idea of a good time."  Duke didn't respond, as Rasputin just walked away.  

"Un-FREAKIN-believable", Sam said.  "Dude, you never told me you were all strong and sh*t!"

"Heh-heh.  Nobody asked."  Fred Duke picked his bag of chips up on his way out of the room.  "I'm gonna go play Madden on the X-Box, you wanna come?"  Guthrie nodded in affirmation and left the room with his plodding friend – forgetting that they just saw the Blackbird take off heading eastward.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

A super stealthy ebony jet streaked away from the Atlantic coast of the US, headed towards Britain.  Seated in the cockpit where Scott Summers and Ororo Munroe.  Behind them were Logan and Kurt Wagner, then Bobby Drake – who was visibly upset that Marie wasn't coming along.  "What if she needs me?"

"Look kid", Logan was getting tired of Bobby's 'Marie-needs-me' tirade.  "Marie isn't going to help us much in this mission.  It could be EXTREMELY dangerous, and she's not as trained to use her powers in combat as the rest of us."

"And YOU are?" Bobby looked angrily at Logan.

"Well, for some of us…" **SCHUNK**!!! His claws popped out of his leather glove.  "…it comes natural!"  The Wolverine gave the kid a feral smile.

"Not for me", replied Bobby – who seemed less belligerent at the sight of the older man's adamantium claws.  "I only know how to put up walls and freeze stuff."

"That's good enough for now", chimed in Cyclops.  "We're just going to have you perform defensive maneuvers – remember what we said in the meeting.  This is an extraction.  Emma Frost is alive… and fearing for her life."

"Yes", added Ororo, "Cordelia Frost was her sister, but the government must have assumed it was Emma who died at Oprah Industries."

"That's probably cuz they didn't leave enough of her to identify the body."  The thought of men in uniforms killing mutants made the Wolverine's blood boil.  His mind was suddenly flooded with images and sounds of a past he would kill to forget, but is dying to fully remember. 

"Possibly…", Scott let our a deep breath, "But we can't go in there ignoring that there is more here than meets the eye.  The new reports could be a total cover up to misdirect us.  And we have to go into this expecting a trap.  Alpha Strike on my mark – at the first sign of trouble."

"And vat iz this Alpha Strike, again?" Kurt Wagner probably understood only half of the meeting in the ready-room.  For one thing, English was not his best language.  And another thing, Scott and Professor Xavier bored the life out of him as they went on, and on, and on… about every detail of the mission.  It seemed that just as the attack was being reported, Professor Xavier had received a call from Emma Grace Frost, known as the "White Queen" of the Hellfire Club.  The call wasn't telepathic – even though Emma is almost the most powerful known telepath on the planet (second only to Professor Xavier).  The call came through a secure frequency on a specially built satellite phone that used psionic technology (like Cerebro), thus only useful for a powerful telepath.  Per Xavier, Emma was a wreck… learning of her sister's death along with the rest of the world during the FoxNews broadcast.  The Professor declined to comment on why he had a privately secured, and virtually untraceable, line to Emma Frost - but at the moment it didn't matter.  Apparently, she was away on a recruiting mission in England for her Massachusetts Academy when she heard the news.

The Massachusetts Academy is one of the oldest and most respected private college preparatory schools in the United States.  The Academy was founded in 1700 to bring "proper breeding and culture to the children of the gentry of the wilderness," according to the school's official history.  Located in the Berkshire Mountains in Snow Valley, Massachusetts, the Massachusetts Academy has for decades been attended by the children of America's social, economic, and political elites.  The school teaches young people from grades seven through twelve (senior year of high school). It is a boarding school, with students living on campus.

Emma Frost serves as the Academy's headmistress, and was also chairperson of the Academy's Board of Trustees.  Frost devoted much of her time to her work as chairperson of the board and chief executive of her corporation, Frost International, but she still managed to spend a surprisingly great amount of time at the Academy. Her subordinates ran the day-to-day affairs of the school in her absence.

However, unknown to most of the world, Frost is also the White Queen of the secret Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club (making her its second highest ranking member). The Inner Circle sought to achieve world domination through-political and economic means.  Frost had been secretly training adolescent superhuman mutants, which she called the Hellions, in the use of their powers in an underground complex beneath the Academy.  The Hellions also studied as regular students at the school.  Frost intended that the Hellions would eventually use their powers on the Inner Circle's behalf as a covert strike team.

All these newly disclosed facts were fresh in Cyclops' staggeringly analytical mind.  It took all of his calm, every stoic fiber of his being, to shunt his desire to lash out at Professor Xavier for hiding all these "minor details".  Telepathically, he communicated with him that "this wasn't over by a long shot".  But for now, there were more pressing matters:  the safety of this Emma Frost, the safety of the team, and the very lives of the children at the mansion.  He turned to Kurt Wagner, taking in a deep breath, and answered his query, "An Alpha Strike means that we obliterate everyone.  Scorched earth.  I don't like that kind of tactic… but we all have to be ready to use lethal use."

"But Scott", asked Storm, "we haven't been attacked yet.  Maybe they know we're not a threat… that we're the 'good guys'."

"No 'Ro", Cyclops wished that were true.  "To them we're vigilantes.  Luckily, that means we're not as high on the list as terrorists… but that could change at any moment.  Remember… we ARE harboring a man who tried to kill the President…"

"SCOTT, HE DIDN'T…."

"I know, I know", Cyclops cut Storm off, noting that Kurt Wagner has become one of her "hot buttons".  "He wasn't in control… but that may not mean a thing to them."

"You think zey know I was not myself?"  Kurt shrugged and shook his head like a child trying to explain his innocence to a parent.  "I could see vat I was doing, but I couldn't help myzelf.  I cried to God to help me stop but…"

"It's ok Kurt…", Storm patted the three fingered mutant on the hand.  "They obviously know… or we would've already been attacked.  (Turning to Cyclops) Scott, what's our E.T.A.?"

"About another hour and a half. I'm pushing the Blackbird's engines as much as possible."  Scott Summers was too busy with the controls to notice that Ororo Munroe didn't mind that their trip was going to be a little while longer.  Had Scott not been concentrating on the best vectors to avoid pulse and Doppler radar signals, he would have noticed that the blue tail of the mutant called Nightcrawler was wound gently around Ororo's ankle.  The brown-skinned woman noticed this gesture all too much.  Lately, she and Kurt had been spending most of their free time together.  While she unloaded some of her emotional baggage on the blue German, he would gently listen and offer REAL comfort… not just clichés and platitudes.  Wagner's faith in humanity, and his faith in God, was oddly attractive.  Here was a man that should hate humanity for how he has been ostracized, for how he has been marginalized to the fringes of even mutant society… but he still had something inside him that she didn't.  Something she didn't know she ever wanted or needed… until she met him.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

The Blackbird continued on its course, flying low over the ocean, eastward towards the emerald isle.  It was invisible to every known sensor in the world.  But the world has changed in recent years.  And with the events of the previous week, the nations of the world, especially the United States, have begun deploying new kinds of sensors and technologies that until now were the stuff of fantasy.  Though the full cache of Cerebro-modified GPS satellites was yet to be brought online, the first phase of these next-gen devices were already fully operational.  Unbeknownst to the X-Men inside the Blackbird, these functional units were aiding taskforce Submariner – the joint services operation in charge of locating and destroying Island-M, Magneto's base.  The Blackbird was indeed invisible to most of the world… but not to them.  Some 400 miles south of the Blackbird's rapidly changing position, anchored 14 miles from the shores of WHAT USED TO BE Island-M, an Aegis cruiser's bridge crew is relaying their sensor reading to another team of military tactical analysts at the Pentagon. 

At the Pentagon, Defense Secretary Ronald Dryer was at a planning session with Dr. D.B. Banner, General Kevin Foley Jr. (Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff), and Admiral Clarence Stark (Chief of Naval Operations).  An aide to the Secretary handed him a report with the latest tracking data of the Blackbird. Secretary Dryer dismissed the aide, and then turned to the other gentlemen assembled before him.  

"Just as your M.I.B.'s predicted Dr. Banner", Secretary Dryer said, "The X-Men are making their move."  The men were meeting in the same subterranean Pentagon war-room that had become their new base of operations for the new mutant-offensive.  "Do you want a copy of this report?"

"No thank you, I already have that data", Banner shuffled some papers out of his briefcase and laid them on the silvery steel table.  He began tapping on the keyboard of the monitor in front of him, and then, on the wall monitors that dotted the room, his analysis was displayed for their collective perusal.  "Take a look at this intercept (pointing at the wall monitors), it shows a psionic site-to-site transmission at the very moment the media broke the story on the Hellfire Club."

 "Do we have any idea yet on who made the call?" asked Admiral Clark.

"Yes", answered Dr. Banner while continuing to type on his keyboard.  (Pointing to the wall monitors) "We know that it was THIS person…"

"That's Emma Frost!" gasped Admiral Clark.  "Didn't General Ross confirm that she was dead?"

"That was a calculated misdirection, Admiral." Secretary Dryer placed both his hands on the table as he continued speaking.  "My apologies that you weren't informed sooner, but the decision was made after consultations with the NSA and the M.I.B."

"Ronald… at least an email.  For goodness sakes, that was two hours ago."  Admiral Clark didn't like sending his men to Island-M working with partial information.

"That's our fault Admiral", Dr. Banner interjected.  "The Bureau has had guys concocting schemes and scenarios around the clock.  When General Ross said that Emma Frost was dead… we still believed it was her.  But an hour later we realized that it was a close relative… a sister, I believe.  Cordelia Frost – a known mutant terrorist and member of the Hellfire Club."

(Turning to Chairman Foley) "So why aren't we sending the Marines and attacking these bastards?" Admiral Clark was, as they say, "in a huff".  "I got 200 men in the middle of the ocean searching for God knows what…  (lets out a breath through gritted teeth) Gentlemen, what's next on the agenda?  Are we still planning the next strike as scheduled?"

"Of course we are Admiral", assured Secretary Dryer, "These X-Men are providing us with a bonus, but the main stateside operation is still on task to be carried out within the hour."

"So what are we going to do about Ms. Frost in England?" asked the Admiral.

"If I may be so kind, sir", Chairman Foley, he typed at his own keyboard, and, suddenly, a map of England appeared on the wall monitors.  The map had several moving symbols, representing the X-Men's jet, the last known location of Emma Frost, an estimated course projection for the jet, and several other symbols representing military forces.  "The British are sending SAS (Special Air Services) forces to this location.  They're equipped with some psionic disruption equipment…"

"Garbage…" Dr. Banner was not impressed with the anti-mutant technologies being developed by other NATO countries.

"Even so", continued Chairman Foley, "Their orders are to hold off the mutants, and neutralize any hostiles they can… until a Captain America squad can arrive – with full support."

"But we have squad Alpha on the USS Normandy… and Beta conducting ops in the Rockies.  Can we scramble them in time?" Admiral Clark was incredulous to the feasibility of this plan.

"If the SAS buy us enough time, we can drop Lyman's team on the LZ (Landing Zone) within 20 minutes." Chairman Foley tapped his keyboard and the images on the wall monitors disappeared.  "The primary op stateside should only be delayed by a couple hours."

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

The Blackbird skimmed over the treetops of Dartmoor National Preserve in southwest England.  "There she is", Scott said, pointing to a small clearing in the middle of nearby thicket of trees that hid a quaint meadow.  Emma Grace Frost was waiting for them intently, flagging them down with a makeshift white flag.  The color white: it entirely covered the woman like a fresh dusting of snow on a northern mountain.  From her platinum blonde hair, to the knee-high high-heeled boots she wore… white was the only discernable color of her attire.  Actually, to call it attire would be presumptuous.  The woman's scant clothing could hardly qualify as proper attire for the headmistress of a prestigious prep school… or even proper for a seedy nightclub.

Emma Grace Frost wore what looked like two swatches of white silk over her buxom frame, only barely restraining her over-exposed breasts, and leaving her mid-riff uncovered.  The mini, mini, mini skirt she wore hardly reached 8" inches down from her waist - in fact, a small portion of her white underwear was clearly visible.  Her long legs were covered in white lace stockings, which were adorned with an exquisite floral pattern.  In the evening sunlight, her outfit, as did her hair and skin, positively glowed.  Upon seeing the X-Men's jet… and her rescuers, she let out a small sigh, closing her eyes: a look of pure relief on her perfectly sculpted porcelain face.  The Blackbird glided over the trees, then lurched as it gently set down some 100 feet west from Emma's position.  

The landing platform opened swiftly and two leather-clad men descended down the stairs.  An equally leather-clad dark skinned woman, whose hair was even whiter than Emma's, followed them.  Behind the woman, hunched over as he walked, was the most curious mutant that Emma had ever seen.  He wore the same black leather uniform, but it was clear that his skin color was a deep azure-blue.  His pointed ears, three fingered hands, and blue whip-like tail made the man look like a blue devil – *All he needs is a blue pitch-fork*, she thought to herself.  A younger man, also in uniform, brought up the rear of the troop.  "So…" she said, tilting her head in a non-chalant manner, "You're the X-Men?"

"Yes we are… and you are the White Queen."  Cyclops didn't ask a question – he fully intended it to be what it was: a statement of fact.  Not to be denied.  Not to be played down or treated lightly.  Because of mutants like these… all other mutants around the entire world now lived in fear and terror.

"Oh come now", said Emma, as she walked back and forth, surveying the team of mutants, "Are we all that different?  You have your little school to play with… and I have mine…"

"We do not turn OUR children into criminals!"  Storm looked intently at the white-clad woman.  

"Nor do I, Missy", retorted Emma with a leer, "I teach them how to fight, and how to take their proper place in this world… (placing her hands on her breasts, and then moving them slowly down her body) on top!"  She licked her lips as she finished her words, all the time staring directly into Logan's eyes.

"And then use them", sneered Cyclops, "for your own agenda!"

"Yes, I do", she answered, still locking eyes on Logan (who was trying hard not to act affected – and failing miserably), "use them for my PLEASURE, and my agenda… but doesn't Xavier do the same with you?"

"He's not a monster like you are", said Storm *or a slut*.

*I heard that, bitch* "As for your precious Xavier", Emma answered, "you don't know as much about him as you think.  You think you're all so high and mighty (she pointed at the group of them).  Xavier's little boy-scouts!  Well Xavier has it wrong.  So does Magneto.  Who cares about whether mankind accepts us?  We don't need their acceptance… or to destroy them… we just need what they can DO for us."

"You vould turn humanity into slaves", stated Nightcrawler, "But no man should be enslaved by another."

"Spare me the moralizing, Keebler elf", Emma reached over to grab her bags, purposely bending over in full view of the team… and exposing a good portion of her thong-clad posterior.

*I can't believe we're saving this whore* Storm thought as she purposely looked away.  She noticed Kurt and Scott were doing the same.  As for wide-eyed Bobby and sweating Logan…

*You want to save me for yourself, honey* Emma responded to Storm using her telepathy.  While the X-Men were presently distracted, they failed to notice the faint rustling that came from the nearby thicket of old growth forest.  It was Logan who first snapped his head into attention, as the smell of gunpowder and steel was too close to ignore.

"AMBUSH!!!" Logan screamed, "Take Cover!"  British SAS forces stormed out of the surrounding forest.  Wolverine recognized that they were equipped with SA 80 machine guns (fitted with a high performance optical sight), M 72 LAW's (Light Anti-Tank Weapons), and HK MP5 submachine guns.  He also noted that the soldier's helmets had a silvery band around each of them.  The SAS helms were fitted with less effective modified versions of the same psi disrupting device once used by William Stryker (to subdue Xavier).  This anti-psionic technology masked their presence and decreased their vulnerability to psychic mutants like Emma Frost.

The X-Men, along with their "guest", sprung into action.  Emma began concentrating on the soldiers.  To her, their minds were drifting in and out, as if being seen through a fog or a haze.  Once she focused on some of them, she began to project orders into their minds.  The psi shielding sent torrents of pain into her cerebral cortex, causing her to clench her fists tightly.  Emma made some of the advancing soldiers shoot each other in the hands, effectively ending their ability to use their weapons.  Cyclops noted the telepath's restraint and creativity.  The X-Men's leader laid down some cover fire over the small throng of soldiers who approached from in front of them.  The soldiers took cover behind the trees, and readied to open fire on the clearing.  

In that moment, Nightcrawler performed a similar maneuver to the one he executed in the White House just a week prior.  In split seconds, he appeared in front or behind soldiers, and delivered spinning roundhouse kicks in mid air.  Before the disoriented soldiers could train their weapons on him, he was airborne and attacking another soldier.  Wolverine took this as his queue to engage some other soldiers hand to hand, or rather, hand to CLAW combat.  A couple of soldiers actually fired a few rounds into Logan's gut, ripping his abdomen open.  "What are you?" the soldier asked, as he witnessed gaping wounds begin to close on a man who acted like he didn't even feel getting torn open by hot ammo.  With a quick swipe of his lethal claws, the soldier's MP5 lay on the ground in pieces, along with several of the soldier's fingers.  

Taking up rear guard positions, Storm caused gale force winds and rapidly flying hailstones to halt the advance of the ambushing soldiers.  Meanwhile, Bobby Drake froze some of the SAS troops' feet onto the ground.  Before they could pull themselves free, and before their comrades could open fire, he used his awesome mutant control over cold and ice to erect an ice wall around the entire battle zone.  The wall was 15 feet high, and more than 18 inches thick – on all sides.  After hearing some muffled gunfire, he noticed Nightcrawler appear with Wolverine in hand – since they had been trapped on the other side of the wall with the British Special forces.

There was only a mere seconds of calm and quiet.  Cyclops was about to give the order to move out, when he heard the noise.  His eyes, hidden behind his goggles, widened as he realized the cause of the noise.  The British had sent in a jet.  What he didn't know was that this was an EJ 2000 Typhoon.  The Eurofighter Typhoon is an agile, single seat, multi-role aircraft optimized for high altitude, supersonic, Air Superiority.  It is capable of operating throughout the entire range of Counter Air Operations, and even Anti Surface-Force Operations.  "Bobby, strengthen the wall!" Drake looked at him confused, but began making the ice wall thicker and thicker.  But it wasn't enough.  The Typhoon jet had already launched its Brimstone missile.  Brimstone is derived from the US Army Hellfire AGM-114F missile with a weapon comprising of three missiles and a launcher.  Powered by a rocket motor, it can seek and destroy targets many kilometers from launch point.  In this case, steerable fins guided the missile towards the wall of ice, avoiding any of the trees nearby.  Its final impact on the outer wall caused the payload's tandem-charge warhead to detonate. The first, smaller warhead nullified the older, outer layer of ice.  This allowed the primary, follow-through charge to penetrate the main wall and punch a gaping hole through the mutant-made structure.  

The remaining SAS forces had already trained their LAW rocket launchers on the mutant team.  With the ice barricade crumbling, the soldiers launched their payloads at the X-Men.  Normally, LAW's are packed with a throwaway type rocket. The rocket is usually made up of a 66mm HEAT (High-Explosive Anti-Tank ) warhead.  But these weren't ordinary rockets.  These rockets carried specially developed psionic grenades – made with some borrowed older American designs, they would disrupt the neural pathways of the targets and effectively kill them.  

There was only enough time for two, maybe three heartbeats… but in that moment, Emma Grace Frost did something that she thought she would never do.  Maybe she was tired of running, maybe she decided that since the world had discovered the Hellfire club there was no point in continuing to live out her charade.  Maybe the loss of her sister had cracked the cold-hearted woman's stone heart, or the way that these X-Men were willing to risk their own lives for someone they didn't even know.  The team would never know what drove Emma Grace Frost to open up her mind and invade everyone else's on the battlefield at the moment those rockets were fired.  How she knew that they were carrying a psionic payload would always stay a mystery… but what wasn't a mystery was that when those warheads detonated, she used the colossal telepathic powers that were hers to wield… and shunted all of the neural disruption into HER OWN MIND.  

Wave after wave of neural disruptive energy was drawn away from its intended victims, and sent careening into the telepath's own psyche.  Simultaneously, she also flooded some of the disruption into the SAS soldiers' minds.  Their anti-psi equipment was nowhere near as good or well-made as what Captain America was using, and thus, through Emma's monumental effort, their protective barriers fell.  The soldiers were left writhing in psychic anguish all over the meadow's floor.  

The effect on them, since their protective equipment lessened it, would only be temporary.  But it gave Cyclops enough time to yell, "Let's get out of here.  Storm take care of the weather and give us cover in case that jet returns."  Storm's eyes cloud over and an unnaturally thick fog rolls in and envelops the entire region.  As the X-Men boarded the jet, Logan stopped by the prone body of the unconscious Emma Frost.

"She's still alive Scott", said Logan, "heartbeat's still pumpin' like normal."

"Cyclops, we can't leave her here", added Storm, an actual look of concern on her face for the woman who just saved all their lives.  

Cyclops drew in a deep, labored breath, and nodded his approval.  "Ok, Kurt, go get her."  Nightcrawler acknowledged the order with a slight head bow, and disappeared with his customary **BAMF** effect – leaving behind a smell reminiscent of sulphur and brimstone.  He reappeared with Emma Frost in his arms.  As Cyclops looked at the woman in the German's hands, he noted how much she looked like an angel – and how angelic her last actions were. 

"Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine", Kurt whispered over the woman.

"What does that mean?" asked Cyclops.

"It iz Latin", Kurt responded, "It means 'give eternal rest to them, O Lord'".  Cyclops shook his head in wonderment, as their resident priest took the infamous White Queen into their exclusive transport.

"Give us rest indeed."  He closed the hatch doors, and bade farewell to the land of the Angles – this country, this fair earth, this England.

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry this was so long in coming. My original outline had MORE parts to it, but I'm including them in the next chapter.  If any of you want to know what the White Queen looks like, just type "Marvel" and "White Queen" in the search engine of your choice.  You'll understand why I made her act and dress the way I did.


	6. Queen of Hearts

"Queen of Hearts" 

Cyclops was fuming.  Their simple pickup and extraction operation turned into a full-fledged ambush.  That wasn't what irked him so much – he expected the extraction to become a combat mission.  Scott Summers was not angry about the risk they placed themselves under… since, after all, they undertook these risks almost all the time.  And he wasn't angry at the outcome: all X-Men accounted for, no significant body count among their adversaries, and they DID achieve their mission objectives… albeit, with consequences.  In fact, he wasn't angry over ANY of those things but, mind you, he was VERY angry indeed.

The X-Men were sent to furnish an escape route for a known and wanted mutant terrorist.  All the way back from England, Cyclops just KNEW that they were being followed or tracked by the authorities.  He realized that if the British SAS had been trailing the terrorist, then they would have captured her before the X-Men arrived.  But the SAS arrived AFTER the X-Men landed – meaning that it was the Blackbird they were tailing.  The SAS must've been tracking the jet's movements in order to triangulate their exact landing location – which begs the question as to why they were doing it in the first place.  The only logical conclusion: they knew that the X-Men were coming to get Emma Grace Frost.

Frost.  What did she do back there during the battle?  Why did she do it?  What drove this seemingly amoral woman to such heights of self-sacrifice?  Sadly, he thought, he'd never get the chance to ask her.  The woman in their emergency infirmary was basically brain-dead.  Aside from respiratory, circulatory, and other autonomic functions… there was absolutely no brain activity.  She was less than comatose… she wasn't there at all.  He figured that her autonomic brain activity would soon destabilize and her body would join her mind, in death.  And would that really be a tragic end?  Even though the woman out and out saved all of their lives, did that in ANY way make up for all the lives that the Hellfire Club has taken, destroyed, and manipulated? 

"Scott, are you listening to me?" asked Storm, "We're approaching the school!"

Cyclops was shaken out of his personal maelstrom, and looked at the ebony beauty with a confused expression.  Suddenly remembering that he was flying the Blackbird, he quickly glanced at the controls.  "Thank You Ororo", he stammered, "I was trying to sort all of this out…"

"I know Scott", Storm placed a soft hand on her friend's clenched fist. "I'm trying to figure out why we did this too.  Why'd we go to England in the first place… and why didn't the Professor tell us about these Hellfire people before now?"

"That's exactly what I'm thinkin'!"  Wolverine bit hard on the cigar he just lit up – which quickly iced over and was extinguished.  He shot Bobby Drake the most murderous glare he'd ever given another human being.  "Cute", he said – then turning back to the others… "Chuck ain't been straight with me since day one! Figure he owes us all a good explanation about why we're rescuing criminals!"

"Perhaps it waz an act of compassion", Nightcrawler smiled shyly as he spoke, "Or perhaps it waz repaying an old debt…" He looked for someone, anyone's affirmation – but noone was buying it.  "Or perhaps the Professor just needs to make himself more clearer, yes?"

"Yes Kurt", Storm agreed, "the Professor DOES need to fill us in on what's going on…"

"Yeah", Cyclops admitted, although with some reservations creeping in.  He still remembered Emma Frost's words… that they didn't know Xavier as well as they believed.  What was she talking about?  Was it true… or was she just trying to mislead and confuse them?  That didn't matter now, anyhow. The woman was comatose – lobotomized by the new anti-mutant toys of the British government. Cyclops looked at his teammates in turn, nodding to each one, saying, "I'll get to the bottom of this with the Professor, then we're DEFINITELY having a group meeting."

"Why?" asked Wolverine, "So you and Chuck can get your stories straight?"

"Logan, I thought we got past that! I'm not…" but Scott was cut off before he could finish his statement.

"He's not the only one who's thinking that", Storm looked her friend in the eyes, or rather his visor.  "I've been at the mansion almost as long as you have, and sometimes you even make ME feel like an outsider.  I only get told what I 'need to know'.  Well dammit Scott, I NEED TO KNOW!"

"Ororo… honey…" Cyclops searched for words, "We… we do what we must do… what we have to do… for the good of the school, and for the team… and sometimes for the good of ALL mutants.  Look, sometimes I don't understand the things we do, like getting this woman (pointing to Emma Frost), but I do my duty anyway, because I trust Charles Xavier.  I believe in his dream.  Like Jean believed his dream.  Like I thought YOU did…"

Tears began to sting the weather goddess' pristine eyes. "Don't you DARE… Scott Summers!  I believe in OUR dream for a better world… just like Jean did… and just like I thought YOU did.  That doesn't mean I do what I'm told with my eyes closed."

"'Ro…" Cyclops was now FUMBLING for words, "I didn't mean that you don't… I mean… (lets out a pent up breath) I don't know what I meant.  I'm sorry.  I love you Ro.  You're my best friend… and I haven't been there for you since…" He stammered as he spoke, and couldn't say the words "since Jean died".  Storm saw the pause in her friend's countenance, and her own heart softened.

"It's ok, Fearless", Storm took Cyclops' hand into her own, (Looking at Nightcrawler) "I've had a guardian angel looking after me. I know you're trying to cope.  We all are.  But Scott?"

"Yeah?" Cyclops stammered.

"When you talk to the Professor, could you tell him how we feel?  Right now is not the time for secrets.  We need to trust each other MORE now than ever."

"I will Ororo", Cyclops turned his attention to the controls, and set the Blackbird's automatic landing sequence.  The jet glided over the treetops of Westchester county, and sailed through the air to the rear basketball courts of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters.  There, where a tarmac and hoop poles once were, a huge gaping subterranean hangar now opened.  The clandestine jet hovered over the mouth of the entrance, then began its steady descent.  As it lowered beneath the earth, the asphalt-covered bay doors closed in behind it.  After the jet touched down, the X-Men disembarked their vehicle, too weary to continue their conversation.  Marie and Piotr were waiting for them, though Marie was ecstatically happier to see the X-Men – or rather a certain X-Man – than the Russian teen.  She bounded into the Iceman's arms, nearly flooring him, as Piotr went to aid Logan in bringing the lifeless Emma Frost off of the jet.  Logan then followed Scott to the infirmary, wheeling Emma Frost in a stretcher.  They lifted the scantily clad beauty from the stretcher, and into a proper examination bed.  Cyclops' eyes blinked momentarily (as if in a trance), and then he began performing all manner of medical diagnostic procedures on the prone woman. 

Logan was flabbergasted by the man's surprisingly SUDDEN medical knowledge, but then he remembered "Jean's in there with him."  He smiled inwardly at Jean's genius.  He surmised that Jean's intent was to preserve herself – or at least her useful knowledge and skills – if they managed to survive Aikili Lake.  As he watched the other man's medical expertise, the door opened… and Charles Xavier wheeled in on his motorized wheelchair.

"I see that our guest has seen better days." Xavier stated.

"She's dead to the world Chuck", Wolverine said dryly.  "I'm goin' to bed.  You two got things to talk about."  Looking at Cyclops, he nodded a silent farewell.  He barely acknowledged the Professor as he stepped out of the infirmary.  Charles Xavier gave Cyclops a bewildered look.  He could have easily scanned the entire X-Men team to get any information he wanted, but his ethics wouldn't allow him to.  He was getting the cold shoulder from his charges, and he was going to get to the bottom of this… the old fashioned way…

"Scott, what is going on?  I barely got a goodnight from any of the others, and Logan didn't say a word to me…"

"Let me finish this up Professor", Cyclops reached for another electrode.  He fastened it to Frost's exposed midriff very carefully, peeling back the adhesive covering and pressing firmly while fitting the lead wire.  Cyclops reminded the Professor of Jean Grey, the way he kept wiping his brow every few minutes.  Turning to Xavier, he said, "The others are just waiting to see what you tell me about this little… trip."

"This was no little trip", Xavier wheeled closer to Cyclops, "This was a very important mission.  This woman could have had information that would be invaluable to us.  She was well-connected, very wealthy, and was involved in one of the most secret organizations in the world."

"Apparently not secret enough."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you KNEW about Frost and the Hellfire Club.  It means that you MUST'VE had dealings with them – maybe outright TIES to them.  Is that why you have that psionic phone rigged up?"

Charles Xavier closed his eyes for a short moment, letting the words sink in, before he spoke again.  "Scott… it's true.  I have known of the Hellfire Club for quite some time.  They've even offered me membership time and again… and EACH time I've turned them down."

"But Professor, why build a rapport with this Frost person?  You could get identified as a terrorist!  How much contact did you have with this woman (pointing at Frost)?"  
"Not enough, apparently (looking down at Frost).  I had no idea about how far or how twisted their Machiavellian schemes were.  For a time I tried to recruit some of them over to my side, join in my dream of building a better world for mutants and humans.  But it became clear that while they didn't want to kill humans, they still wanted to kill something far more precious: human dignity and freedom."

"But why not just turn them in?  Why not alert the authorities?"

"The authorities?  You mean those same 'authorities' that are systematically slaughtering mutants as we speak?"

"Yes, Professor… THOSE authorities.  I'm not condoning their tactics… but… but look at what set it off!  The ENTIRE world, every person on the globe…  was mentally assaulted.  Millions were killed.  You telling me that they're just supposed sit in a circle with us and sing 'kumbaya' after that?"

"Of course not!  But what they're doing, what they've BEEN doing… is not beyond reproach.  And you tell ME, Scott Summers, how long do you think before they start admitting that they see ALL mutants as a threat, not just the ones they label 'terrorists'?"

"Professor, you're starting to sound like FREAKIN' MAGNETO!  That bastard started all of this!  Your little old pal…  the one who helped you make Cerebro… figured out how to use it as a weapon… and got Jean killed in the process!"

"Scott…" Xavier was starting to sense the younger man's emotions kick into overdrive.  It was difficult for a human being to manage their own emotions in a time of crisis, but Scott was carrying almost the entire psyche and emotional energy of another person as well – and a telepath at that.  Despite he and Xavier's sessions, he still had to concentrate ferociously to avoid losing control.  "Scott, focus on me… focus on the here and now… (using his mental powers) stop thinking about Jean's death, and focus on the life that she gave you… remember that…"

"Thank you Professor", Cyclops was regaining his composure, he rubbed his temple as if getting over a massive headache (turning to Emma Frost) "What about her?  How is she doing… mentally I mean?  Can we get any useful information out of her?"

"No chance of that, I'm afraid.  There is hardly anyone in there.  Her body is fine, but her mind is in tatters.  There simply isn't enough in her psyche to qualify as a person.  In psionic terms, she's dead."

"Then we failed…", Scott drooped his head and suddenly slammed his fists on the table. "We failed the mission… we failed you Jean… I failed you…again…" His breathing became ragged, and he grit his teeth.  The torrent of emotions were starting to surface again… how long had it been since his last uninterrupted session with the Professor?  Too long, apparently.  "Professor", he gasped as he clutched his head, "help me…"

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Nightcrawler sat lithely on Storm's bed, as the dark skinned woman paced back and forth.  "Why do you worry so much '_fraulein_'?  We survived the mission today.  Is that not comforting to you?"

"Today maybe Kurt, but what about tomorrow?"  She finally stopped pacing and plopped herself down on her favorite chair. It was an antique, ornately decorated Victorian era chair.  The perfect throne for the mansion's resident queen.

"I say, do not worry about tomorrow.  Let tomorrow worry about itself. Every day has its own trouble."

The shiny silk robe she wore over her white nightgown wrinkled as Storm crossed her arms.  "How do you always know what to say, Mr. Wagner?  I don't get you.  All of us are stressed out and you're cool as a cucumber."

"I am like a vegetable?"

"It's a figure of speech."  She threw him the most vibrant smile he had ever seen.  His yellow eyes just gazed at her, his very own princess.  Though he thought it presumptuous to make his attraction known, he still allowed himself the simple pleasure of basking in her porcelain-like perfection.  He smiled shyly and looked away, as was his habit.  Storm just smirked and asked, "You know… you're cute when you're embarrassed."

"Oh?  I don't get that a lot from people."

"Well, people CAN be cruel.  I don't know why you don't hate them. The way they treated you, and made you into a circus performer…"

"Ororo, I CHOSE to work in a circus.  It was the only place where I found people who loved me. Human beings that accepted and loved me for who I was…"

"And how much money you could make them!"

"That too. But I still choose to love. Why do find that so strange?"

"Because I can't love like that.  Not with humans."  She frowned as she briefly thought about her past; her expulsion from her original family and community, run-ins with the law, and almost being killed several times before coming to the mansion.  "Humans scare me… I can't love them Kurt, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much the Professor tells us to do it… I just can't."

"Ororo…", Kurt slid of the bed and walked over to the seated beauty.  He knelt beside her and softly placed his hand on hers as he spoke.  "Love is not something that can be explained so easily, but it is easy to express.  Love is a combination of many things.  It is kindness and patience… it is trust, and hope, and even faith."

"You say that because you're religious…(thinking about her experience with so-called 'holy' people)… that's something else I never had any use for."

Kurt stifled a laugh.  "_Fraulein_, everyone has a religion.  Even if they only trust in themselves, they still trust something.  When I see you put yourself in danger for people you claim to fear… that is LOVE in action.  Your love.  There is no greater love than giving your life for your friend… like your Jean Grey has shown you all."

Ororo eyes slightly watered at the thought of Jean's sacrificial death.  The team had hardly any time to mourn her before the worldwide riots struck.  They had to rush from one place to another to save mutants from being lynched.  It had been the most exhausting four days of her life.  Kurt wasn't psychic, but he knew his African goddess was saddened at the mention of Jean Grey.  He stroked her platinum white hair, and placed a soft and gentle kiss on her cheek.  He was astounded by his courage to do so, but even more astonished to see that Ororo didn't turn away or frown.  She just returned his friendly affection by placing a hand on his own cheek, then stood up and carefully hugged him.  "Thank you Kurt… for being there for me.  I don't know what I'd be doing without you?"

"It's ok, my dear…  this too shall pass…" He continued stroking her hair as they embraced, neither breaking the soft hold.  As Ororo let out faint and muffled sobs, raindrops began to pitter-patter against the windows.  Kurt Wagner's blue tail wrapped itself around them both as he held her, rocking gently as he spoke soothingly into her ear.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The Professor watched in horror as Scott Summers convulsed violently.  The primal psionic forces that were once inside Jean Grey were now tearing his prize student asunder.  Piotr Rasputin had transformed into his armored Colossus form, and held the X-Men's field commander at bay.  Wolverine had grabbed Cyclops' hand and had it tightly clasped against the spectacled mutant's eyes. "I can't hold him much longer Chuck!  We got to do something!"

"He is right Professor", offered Colossus, "Jean's energy is killing this man.  If he cuts loose with a blast, he'll kill us all!"

"And half the state!" Wolverine barked.  The old mutant read the file on Scott Summers a while back.  Concussive force beams, no known power source… and absolutely no known limit.  If this guy ever got pissed off, he could decapitate a mountain.  How do you stop a guy who'll kill you as soon as he looks at you?  He was finally beginning to understand Cyclops' need to be in control of his emotions all the time.  With a little effort, and some carelessness, he could overcome his ruby quartz lenses and unleash torrents of death upon the world.  "Chuck… make him stop this.  Jean's inside of him, and it's tearing him up!  He can't take having two people up there!"

"I KNOW THAT LOGAN!" Even the Professor was surprised at how he raised his voice at the gruff mutant.  "Our mental sessions were a psychic band-aid, to help him suppress Jean's psyche and keep it from mixing with his own.  But those barriers are failing… probably because of Jean's powers."

"Gentlemen", Colossus said as he strained to keep Cyclops' hand over his eyes.  The beams were beginning to surpass the Russian mutant's strength levels.  Wolverine shot a worried look at Charles Xavier, who understood the gravity of the situation: if those beams break free, they are all dead.

It took Xavier several seconds of inner debating before his mind was made up. He knew what had to be done, and he did not like it one bit.  In order to save his favorite student's life, and indeed their own, he would have to grant life to another – perhaps undeserving – person.  Charles Xavier began to concentrate on Scott Summer's raging maniacal psyche.  He quickly grieved over the damage that holding Jean's telepathic mind was doing to the man.  He also marveled at the level of defiance Scott's mind displayed.  Even under psychic emotional battering, his mind was still fighting to keep Jean's mind mixed with his own.  A small tear escaped Xavier's eye as he had to literally rip Jean's psyche from Cyclops' mental grasp.  The younger mutant let out a anguished moan as his body suddenly stopped fighting and slumped against Colossus and Wolverine. 

It was Logan who clamped an awkward hug on the man, as Cyclops' grief ridden sobs grew louder and louder.  "She's gone… she's gone… she's gone…" is all the brown-haired man could say – accepting the finality of Jean's departure.  Having her inside him blunted the reality of the situation: that his Jean was never going to walk in and make it all better – like only SHE could do. 

Had all the mutant men not been fixated on their Fearless leader's moment of weakness… they would have noticed the body on the exam table begin to stir. Colossus looked wide-eyed on the former corpse-like female, as she jerked gently at first, and then violently shuddered against the bed.  Even Logan and Scott looked up to see the commotion, and were momentarily stunned into silence.  The white-clad mutant woman began to shiver and twitch - her eyeballs moving rapidly underneath her eyelids.  Her buxom chest began heaving forcefully, as ragged breaths gave way to deep ones.  Her mouth finally opened and she gasped for air, taking in as much as she could with each inhalation.  Then… she suddenly gripped the sides of the bed, and sat up with a striking velocity... her eyes simultaneously opening as she let out the most inhuman shriek ever heard by anyone in the room.  

The other mutants were stunned into sheer bewilderment – all except the Professor, who fully understood what was happening.  One mind was fitting together and assimilating the broken pieces of another.  Neither was 100% percent complete, but the dominant one was calling the shots and helping rearrange the jigsaw puzzle that was left of the other. Memories were being supplanted and replaced, fragments were being melded, personalities were being blended…

Emma Grace Frost focused on the men around her, slowly scanning the room, and meeting their eyes in turn.  Her huge blue eyes fixed on the hidden crimson eyes of the man in front of her.  As he stepped forward, she looked at him with a sudden familiarity, and happiness, and joy… and… something else.  Her face seemed to morph into another woman's favorite expression, something like recognition, but much more… deeper.

In a voice she barely recognized, she asked softly, "Scott?"

**Author's Note**: What will Ororo think?  And what about Magneto? All these questions and more will be answered on the upcoming chapter.


	7. Appetite for Destruction

**Author's Note**: OK, this is not a full update, but this story was temporarily on the back burner.  NO LONGER.  I'll post a REAL chapter soon… I promise…. But for now, enjoy this SERIOUS prelude….

APPETITE FOR DESTRUCTION 

Explosions rocked the school.

Students were flying off their beds as the rooms, hallways, floors, ceiling, and just about everything in between, shook violently.  Screams were filling the air… followed by a blanket of pitch-black smoke.  "Run for the exits!" cried an older girl in a long nightgown.  She at least had some semblance of sanity left… unlike her roommates.  The other girls of suite C-23 were in a hysterical panic.  Granted, the girl in the nightgown was older than most of her roommates by at least two years.  The younger girls momentarily stopped their whimpering, and closely followed the older girl out of their room.

As they made their way out to the hallway, they discovered the scene in total disarray.  Screaming and panicked girls swarmed the exits at the far end of the hallway – where the building's main stairwell and lobby were located.  Sarah Kenelly gathered her courage, cleared her throat, and said to the other girls, "Look, we'll make it out, just hold hands and follow me!"  The other girls whispered their affirmations and did as she commanded.  As they made it half way to the main staircase, a bunch of structural beams (on fire) collapsed in front of them – blocking their path with a wall of burning lumber.

The girls screamed in unison.  "What are we going to do Sarah?!?!" asked a short brunette. Her round little face was covered in ash and soot.

Sarah's eyes darted back and forth, then she suddenly located a way out –through a dorm window.  "Come on you guys, let's go through that room, follow me!"  The girls eagerly scurried behind Sarah, but drew back when they saw her plan.

"Are you crazy?" cried a blonde named Tammy.  "We're on the third floor!  We can't do this!"

"Tammy… would you rather burn to death inside here?"  Sarah placed her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.  When she received none, she continued to open the window, which just so happened to be situated above the widest ledge on the building.  Sarah was the first to get out on the ledge and survey the situation.  She moved slowly along the ledge, making room for all the girls to get out.  Just as the last girl made it out onto the ledge, the hallway burst into flames.  The ledge was so wide, that the girls were able to run across the length of the building, past four other dorm windows, and turn the corner as flames exploded out of the rooms behind them. One split second too late and they would have all perished.  The five girls were now on the ledge on the rear side of the building.

Sarah gazed wearily at the school grounds. It looked like hundreds of police officers were all over the place.  Swarms of police cruisers and fire rescue vehicles cordoned off the center of the school – mainly the administrative and academic buildings.  She could see hundreds of screaming, crying kids being herded into evacuation trucks.  Past the police barricades, Sarah could see military vehicles surrounding the main administration building.  Her eyes grew wide as she noticed something that looked like a small war.

About a mile away from the main dorms, across the inner courtyard, and by the fountain… a war was INDEED being fought.  Sarah Kenelly was floored… literally.  Another huge explosion rocked the entire school.  The ledge where the girls were perched on shook violently, accompanied by a white flash of light and a deafening boom. Sarah shielded her eyes from the intense light, but peeked through her fingers once the intensity had died down.  She witnessed a gigantic, fiery mushroom cloud rise into the air and consume what was left of the admin building.  

About twenty human figures could be seen through the fire and smoke.  Three of them were dressed in what looked like black body armor. Their strange weapons glistened in the red glow of the flames surrounding them.  The other figures were dressed in their own body fitting costumes – which vaguely resembled the school's gold and blue uniforms.  One of the costumed people shot something… literally… out of his hand.  A pulse of red light shot out from his fingertips – striking one of the black-armored trio dead center in the chest.  The armored man stumbled back and fell to the ground.  The remaining men-in-black trained their weapons at the others and opened fire.  Whatever they fired at the group, it wasn't bullets – it was more like WARHEADS.  Human flesh evaporated, and gold/blue fabrics erupted into flames and disintegrated.  Sarah stared in amazement.  The man who had been struck with the red beam got to his feet, and opened fire on the remaining combatants.  Fiery chunks of body parts flew in every direction as his ammunition impacted with people's bodies.

Just like that… it was over.  As quickly as it had begun, the fight ceased… and civilian personnel (fire rescue and police officers) filled the inner courtyard.  Sarah and her friends were frozen on the ledge, speechless and emotionless.  They were jarred out of their trance when a sudden explosion burst from underneath them.  The girls screamed in fear, as the first floor of their building was being engulfed in flames.  In fact, the ledge where they standing on was the only part of the building NOT being consumed by the fire.  Sarah then noticed that a nearby tree had been hit by stray gunfire, and now teetered on its burnt trunk. The giant oak tilted and then fell towards the five girls, who clutched each other.  Their collective eyes were closed tightly as they shrieked.  Only Sarah kept her eyes wide open, and locked on the falling timber.  She thought that this was finally the end for her dorm mates… but then the tree top glanced off the fourth floor above them… and crashed through the wall just six feet away from their position on the ledge.  Sarah suddenly yelled, "Tammy, Vi, get your butts up and climb down the tree with me!"  The other girls looked up at Sarah, who had already started climbing down the makeshift bridge.  "Hurry you guys!"  The other girls made haste, and followed Sarah down the tree's trunk to the floor below.  Just as Sarah helped the last girl off the tree, plumes of fire consumed the huge oak.  The girls ran from the building as fast as their legs could carry them… finally collapsing from exhaustion some 250 feet away.

"Sarah, if it weren't you… we would've all died", said Tammy.  "Thank you…" She rested her hand on Sarah's shoulder, as the other girls came around and hugged their leader tightly.  The young ladies were busy expressing their love and gratitude to Sarah, as two armor-clad figures silently approached them.  Vi, the youngest of the girls, saw the armored figures and shrieked – startling the other girls out of their revelry.  The others just gasped as the two armored men trained their gleaming rifles on the group of students – the same rifles that tore apart those other people a few moments ago.

"That was some bit o' luck you just had back there!" said one of the armored men.  There was a red and white circle on his chest plate, with a large white star in the middle.  The girls remained silent.  "In fact", he continued, "The chances of ALL those near misses turnin' out JUST right… well… it's a million to one!  What do you think Lieutenant?"

"I have to agree", Peter Lyman removed his helmet, and slung his rifle over his shoulder, but his colleague (one Mr. Turk) kept his gun barrel aimed at the girls.  

"Sarah Kenelly", said a voice from behind the men, "you are hereby detained under authority of the Mutant Investigation Bureau."  Four men in black suits were walking towards the girls.  One of them continued speaking, "Take the others to the evacuation zone, and return them to their parents."

"No!" Tammy yelled, "You can't take Sarah! She's our friend! You can't take her!"  The other girls protested in unison, in full agreement that Sarah shouldn't be separated from them.  They locked arms and formed a circle around the mutant girl.

Turk trained his weapon on the group of young ladies, and glanced over at Lyman.  "Your call Lieutenant, our orders were to terminate all Hellions at our discretion."

"But wait…", said one of the M.I.B's, "Her probability manipulation powers are uncharted.  We want her alive.  Anyhow, this girl was NOT an active member of the Hellions, just a trainee."  Lyman looked at he young girl at the center of the circle.  He knew the girls' situation was hopeless… but was this what he had come to?  Killing a young girl in front of her friends… possibly killing them too?  He shook his head.  These girls… like the two brown-eyed little angels he had at home… would not die by his order. Not tonight.  Not ever.

"Lower your weapon Turk." Lyman walked toward the fearful girls, who closed ranks around their friend. "These girls love you Sarah."

"Yeah they do", the sixteen-year-old answered back.  She choked back a tear that threatened to roll down her stained cheek.  "I love 'em too.  Don't hurt them.  I'll go with you."

"No you won't Sarah!  I won't let them take you!"  Tammy got even closer to her friend, and glared at Lyman with eyes that bore into his soul.  "You can't have her!"

"Sarah", Lyman said, "We've read the files… in fact, we have a hundred guys reading the files.  We know you were recruited by Emma Frost to come to this Massachusetts Academy.  What you DIDN'T know was that they wanted to turn you into a weapon.  They wanted you to be a criminal like the people we just fought with."

"The people you just killed." Sarah looked at Lyman coldly.

"Yes.  We had to kill them.  These people had killed many, MANY other innocent people.  They were trained terrorists, and this school was going to turn you into one of them."

"And what are YOU and THEM (pointing at the MIB's) going to turn me into?"

"Nothing Sarah.  Your powers are too random and subconscious to be effective in combat without LOTS of training. And even then, you'd be a LONGSHOT at best.  All we want to do is remove you from the reach of other mutant terrorists… who might consider making you their lucky charm."

"How can I trust you?"  Sarah asked incredulously.

"That's the rub ain't it?" Lyman said.  "You have my word… and I'll give it to you on National TV…"

"What the f*** are you talking about?" shouted Turk.  "Have you gone crazy?" The other MIB's agreed with Turk's sentiment.

"No Turk, I'm talking about quick thinking… look over there…" Lyman pointed at the swarm of news media heading their way.  In mere seconds the men were surrounded by photographers and assorted cameramen.  News anchors from at least a dozen television news shows began shouting questions at them.

"What happened here!?!?"

"Were there any mutant terrorists!?!?"

"Is this the next phase of the mutant war!?!?"

"Is that girl a mutant, and will she be executed like the other mutant terrorists?"

Lyman had enough.  "Those mutants were not EXECUTED!!! They were criminal terrorist who got the justice they deserved.  Last I checked, Captain America is our best hope at ending mutant terrorism… and protecting the people of this nation!"  

There was some murmuring among the stunned reporters, but the questions came back in full swing: "But what about the growing criticism about how civil rights are…" 

Lyman cut the reporter off.  "I am not here to discuss other people's political agendas… I'm a member of the Captain America strike team… and we have just conducted an anti-terror operation in the Massachusetts Academy. There is no more I can say."

One cherubic reporter yelled, "Who's the girl?"

Turning to Sarah and winking, Lyman said, "This girl has been rescued from the mutant terrorist group – The Hellfire Club – which had a secret operation at this location.  She will be…" Lyman looked at the nervous MIB agents, "sent back to her family under our full protection."  The MIB agents looked utterly aghast.  Lyman had just promised to release the girl.

One nervous agent cut in, "Ummmm… she will also receive some routine medical exams… on a… errrr… an OUTPATIENT basis (glaring at Lyman)."  The media swarmed around the MIB agents, who took many more questions – answering barely any – as Lyman and Turk escorted the girls to the evacuation vehicles.

"You're going to catch some heat for this Lieutenant", warned Turk.

Lyman smiled and said to his colleague, "Not that much… I'll spin it as a PR move.  And now, this girl will be under the scrutiny of the world and under our protection.  She'll be safe in the plain sight."  

The young ladies began loading into the evacuation vehicles.  Sarah stopped and looked at Lyman quizzically.  She clasped his hand and said, "Thank you sir… I can't believe you did that…."

"I can't either… probably your mutation affecting me… I hope your luck holds…" Lyman ran his fingers through his hair as he spoke, "I… hope you realize… that we're the good guys Sarah".

"I want to believe it… but all those people who hate mutants…"

"Are just scared because of what happened."  This time, it was Lyman who gently clasped the girl's hand – as if to communicate sincerity.  "Until a month ago, most people didn't care one way or another about mutants… but after almost getting killed… after all of humanity was attacked… nobody's neutral anymore."

"But we're not all like that…" Sarah began to cry.  Maybe it was the accumulated stress of the night, seeing people get blown apart, or narrowly escaping a life as a lab rat.  "I'm not like that…"

"No you aren't young lady", Lyman assured her.  Even Turk nodded in agreement.  "You risked your life to save your friends.  You are not a mutant, little girl… you're a human being with a special ability.  The same as a guy who can dunk a basketball or invent a computer."

"But people don't hate them the way they hate us…"

"Because they can understand those things… but they can't understand why somebody can shoot green stuff from their mouth.  And they're right not to trust somebody who can kill them with a thought… because all humans try to use their skills for selfish ends – it's only human.  Our laws are enforced by the threat of retaliation. It scares people that some mutated humans…" Sarah noted his use of the word 'mutated humans', and smiled at that.  "…don't care about the law… or think that it doesn't apply to them.  The only ones who have to fear the law… are law-breakers!  You, Sarah Kenelly, will never have to worry about that."

The girl's face brightened after Lyman's careful speech.  In all her short life, she'd rarely felt this connected to a non-mutant who knew she was a mutant.  It made her feel… human.  "I can go with you… while you explain yourself to your bosses… I don't want to get you in trouble", Sarah pleaded.  

Turk and Lyman looked pensively for a moment. "Actually, it's not a bad idea Lieutenant", said Turk.  "With her around, working the lucky mojo, you'll probably come off this with a warning."

"You're probably right" answered Lyman. "And she can't go home right now anyway.  We got to make sure the Mutant FBI, or whatever they call themselves, keep their word."  Turning to Sarah, "Honey, we're taking a trip to Ft. Bragg.  I hope you like Army food."

"I don't mind… you should see the stuff they eat here."  The three people shared an uneasy laugh.  Eventually, Lyman, Turk, and the rest of Captain America returned to Ft. Bragg for a debriefing, refit, and some well earned R&R.  The girl accompanied them, and her strange mutant power was likely responsible for Lyman's "wrist slap" verbal warning.  Sarah Kenelly was eventually sent back to her family, knowing full well that she was under protective surveillance at all times.  She also had a secret "hotline" cell phone so she could contact Captain America's leader, Peter Lyman.

Thankfully, some of the soldiers in this war… were actually human beings.

**Author's Note:**  The attack on the Massachusetts Academy, and the destruction of the Hellions, occurs simultaneously during the events of the previous chapter.  This was just a short story before the next and almost final chapter. Now back to the X-Men.  Coming up: Is it Emma, or Jean, or both?  And what is Magneto up to?  And what happens when Captain America sets its sights on Charles Xavier?  All this and more in the final two chapters.


	8. The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

"The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men…" 

{11 days after the events in X2: X-Men United}

Dr. D.B. Banner sat at his desk, looking haggard.  He had spent the better part of the last seven days pouring over data from the former fortress of the Brotherhood of Mutants – Island-M.  Magneto and one other mutant had escaped, and their whereabouts were unknown.  And now, the Massachusetts Academy raid yielded another boatload of documents, records, timetables, and schematics to assign to his teams.  "Those poor staffers", he thought.  They already had been putting in an obscene amount of overtime since the first HUGE shipment of information from Oprah Industries.  He knew that some members of Congress were getting nervous – no doubt due to any number of secret back-room dealings and payoffs they had been privy to.  That is why the **M**.**I**.**B**. (**M**utant **I**nvestigation **B**ureau) was subject to no oversight, save that of the President and Joint Chiefs. The man rubbed his temples again, eyes blurring from the information overload, as the phone rang.  "Banner here", he answered.  Noone had this number except the President and the Joint Chiefs.

"Dr. Banner, I hope I'm not disturbing you at this hour", said an unapologetic Ronald Dryer.  The Secretary of Defense was not one for small talk, so this formality was not going to last long.  "I need your people to give us another set of possible targets for Operation Avenger as soon as possible.  And Magneto HAS to be found."

"I know that Mr. Secretary", Dr. Banner replied, "I have people still working on the Massachusetts Academy intel.  And the O.I. intel has still not been fully exploited.  Hell, half of this stuff still hasn't been properly classified."

"Doctor, we just don't have as much time as we'd like", Secretary Dryer's emotionless tone seeped through the phone.  "Every day that Magneto is not caught is another day that our world is not safe…"

"Would you please save me the campaign slogans Mr. Dryer", Dr. Banner had to suppress the urge to curse at the man.  "I'm sorry if I sound rude, but we have the best people in the country looking over WAY more data than humanly thought possible.  The sheer SIZE and SCOPE of this information is nearly overwhelming.  These mutant groups were into everything – corporations, money markets, and politics.  Hell, we've had to scramble to investigate and kill every program that O.I. had ever done for the Pentagon.  This is going to take a little longer than the week and a half we've had so far."

"I know that Banner.  But the President wants results.  Two days ago we lost the Emma Frost woman to some mutant vigilante squad.  This Massachusetts raid just barely pulled everybody's collective assess out of the fire.  But, as you know, we're only as good as our last victory.  Magneto still has to be caught. Dead or alive, but you know we're shooting for dead."

"I know, I know.  If I can get back to my work, I may have something by tomorrow morning."

"Very well then, have a nice evening."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Scott Summers had barely left his room for the last two days.  Everything was spinning out of control.  Almost two weeks ago Jean died saving them all at Aikili Lake.  For four days after that, they spent their time saving mutants from anti-mutant rioters.  Then the government attacks began with such swiftness and ferocity that they didn't even have enough time to properly react.  The X-Men didn't have enough time to mourn Jean either.  If it weren't for Professor Xavier's psychic help, Cyclops would've gone insane, having received the sum total of Jean's mind.  But two days ago, all that changed.  In order to prevent him from lobotomizing himself, or killing them all… or both… Professor Xavier performed something akin to psionic surgery.  The Professor ripped Jean out of his mind, and shunted the psychic imprint into the comatose body of Emma Frost.

Frost.  Is that what she's going to want to be called?  Those first few minutes after she regained consciousness were insane.  There was this woman, speaking like she knew him… and expecting him to run over and give her a hug.  He ran out of there as fast as he could and hadn't returned to the infirmary since.  Ororo and Logan had tried to coax him into seeing her, claiming that this woman had somehow assimilated some of Jean's personality and ALL of her memories.  They said that they resisted talking to her at first as well, but after doing so, that he would understand why they thought it was important. But Scott wasn't ready to do that yet.  Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door.

"Go away", he yelled as he got back to his brooding.  How could anyone expect him to care about ANYTHING?  Jean was gone.  There wasn't anything more for anyone to say, or anything to do.  Even Jean's last gift to him was gone now… and no doppelganger was going to make up for his lost love.  The knocking got a little harder, and more persistent.  "I told you to please GO AWAY!"  But the other person apparently did NOT get the message.  After 30 seconds of silence, the knocking began again.  Scott muttered curses under his breath, and walked over to the door, fully intending to blast this person into oblivion.  He opened the door, and stood there in stark silence.

"Are you going to say something?" inquired the dazzling blonde, "Or just stand there with your hand on your glasses?"

"Please leave."  Scott barely managed to squeeze out those words.  There she was - the woman who had the face of angel, and the rap sheet of a devil.  Scott Summers couldn't even look her in the eye, because when he gazed into those blue orbs, he saw Jean behind them.  They weren't Jean's perfect brown eyes (not that he could see any color besides shades of red), but he could see something dance in those pupils – the same dancing that he once saw in Jean's eyes.

"Scott… we need to talk, there's so much I need to tell you…"

"There is NOTHING I have to say to you.  You're carrying the memories of someone I dearly loved… but that doesn't make you HER. You are Emma Frost.  A Criminal.  Jean… my Jean… is dead."  Scott went to slam the door, but was stopped by the voice he heard in his head.

"Please Scott, let me speak with you…" Scott Summers froze entirely.  His eyes grew wide, and then his knees almost buckled – sending him stumbling back into his room and onto his bed.  That voice!  It broke into his mind, and he recognized it immediately.  It was the voice of Jean Grey – telepathically speaking to his mind – but it seemed, so much more powerful.

Clutching his head he stammered, "Don't… don't you dare do this you HEARTLESS BITCH!!!"  Scott regained his footing and reached for his glasses. "If you ever use her voice again, I'll kill you.  I swear it."  Tears were coming down from under his ruby quartz lenses.

Emma Frost's eyes were welling up with tears of their own.  "You heard HER voice because it's MINE now too.  Jean has saved my life – she and I are in here sharing this body.  Scott, I can't make sense of it.  I don't know what's Jean and what's Emma.  When I look in the mirror, I have to make an effort to recognize myself."

"Spare me the sob story Ms. Frost.  But I lost my fiancé just TWO freaking weeks ago.  I haven't even had time to say goodbye to her…"

"But I… SHE needs to speak with you.  There is so much I have to tell you about what I was thinking, what I never got to say to you before Aikili Lake…"

"YOU WERE NEVER AT AIKILI LAKE!!! Jean was.  You are Emma Frost – a criminal, a liar, and a professional terrorist.  You know nothing about Jean Grey."

"You're wrong Scott.  I am Emma Frost.  I am a criminal, but…" Emma let loose all the tears and sobs she was holding back, "but Emma's evil mind is gone.  I have Jean's memories… but so much more than that.  I have her emotions, her mind… everything that made Jean… Jean.  When I look at Emma through Jean's eyes… I hate myself.  I hate Emma Frost. I can't stand the sight of her… but when I look into a mirror, that's who I see.  The only thing I'm sure of is that I need you Scott Summers.  I need to hear your voice, I need to tell you how much I love you… how much Jean loved you…"

"Those feelings aren't really yours.  But don't think that Jean and I left anything unsaid.  Jean and I spent an entire lifetime together in those last few seconds before the end…" Scott sat back down on the bed, and he didn't react when Emma pulled up a seat next to him.  "Emma, Jean was the most loving human being I ever met, and I can't see her hating you… or anyone else."

"But she knows… I mean… I know what she would think of her…think of me… I mean… I don't know WHAT I mean.  Jean's inside of me Scott.  I think with HER voice.  It's my mind's voice now.  I have all of Emma's memories, and facts, but none of the emotions tied to them.  I don't have all of Jean's facts, but I have her mind interpreting everything.  This is going to sound weird but… I FEEL like Jean.  I react to things like Jean would.  I hate what she hates, like what likes, and love…"

"Don't say it Emma.  It's not you. It's her."  Scott finally brought himself to look at Emma Frost. This woman was stunningly gorgeous.  He suppressed that thought because he felt it betrayed Jean.

"You're not betraying Jean if you think I'm pretty, Scott!"

"EMMA FROST, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO INVADE MY MIND!"

Before Scott could fly into a rage, Emma spoke in a tone that was eerily reminiscent of Jean Grey.  "Since when did I have to read your mind to know what you're thinking Scott?  (Pointing to her head) She's here Scott, and here (pointing to her heart).  I know you'd think Emma was pretty, and I don't mind.  Like I didn't mind you thinking Ororo was a 'bonafide hottie'."

The blood drained out of Scott's face. "You remember that?  Jean, you know I'd never look at anyone else but you…"  
"I know. You only loved me… I mean… her.  Damn, this is crazy.  Maybe I'm insane.  But Scott Summers, (she reached for his hand, and he didn't pull away) I'm not the monster that Emma Frost used to be.  I may look like her, but there is more of Jean in me than Emma right now. (TELEPATHICALLY SPEAKING) And that's why my mind's voice isn't Emma's voice.  It's Jean's.  Mine."

Scott was floored.  Every time he heard Jean's voice, his heart beat faster and faster.  "This is going to be hard for both of us.  I keep seeing Jean in you, and yet I have to remember that you're Emma."

"Call me Grace.  I don't like Emma.  I don't think with Emma Frost's mind anymore, even though I know everything about her.  Deep down, I'm just not her anymore.  Emma Frost died in England.  I'm alive because Jean's mind saved my life.  Are you ok with that?"

"It'll take some getting used to… but I'll try… Grace."  Grace smiled at Scott, and it was Jean's smile.  The way her lips curled, and the way that she tilted her head and her hair hang down to one side: It was pure Jean.  Jean had indeed saved this woman, yet another parting good deed from the woman of his dreams.  But was it Jean trying to connect with him again through Grace?  Or was this Grace's idea?  Scott wasn't sure yet who was really calling the shots in Frost's mind, but he liked the idea of having someone around who knows him the way Jean did.  It was like the next best thing. "Let's go downstairs and get some…"

"Hot chocolate?"

"How'd you…?"  Grace smiled and arched one of her eyebrows – just like Jean would.  "Never mind.  Just follow me."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

"It's nuts.  Completely Freaking Nuts."  Logan took one last drag of his cigarette.  He set his beer down on the nightstand next to his bed.  Ororo Munroe was pacing around the room, and Kurt Wagner sat on the floor with his legs crossed.  "This Grace chick is runnin' around with Jeanie's mind.  She walks like Jean, talks like Jean, acts like her… but it ain't her.  It's spooky."

"Yes, I know Logan. You keep saying that." Ororo stopped and plopped herself down on the seat next to Logan, rather unceremoniously.  "I feel like I've got my best friend back when I talk to this woman.  The more I speak with her, the more I like her – but I know it's not her.  At least, it's not who this woman originally was."

"But does any of that matter?" asked Logan.  "I mean, I don't even have ALL of my own memories.  So the man I am now, today, that's all that matters to me.  Maybe I was a psycho killer in the past.  Maybe I was a monster.  I was definitely manufactured for something… sinister (looking down at his forearms).  But that ain't me now, and I can't remember any of it.  The difference is that this Grace lady can remember it all.  That must be tougher than what I go through not knowing."

"So we just accept her like it's Jean?" Ororo wanted to run and hug this woman and love her with all her heart – but the fact that it was someone else's body just felt like a betrayal.  "I mean, Jean transferred herself into Scott, and then the Professor transferred Jean into Emma Frost… so the question is… should we just treat her like Jean?"

"I think we should, unless she starts acting like Frost.  I read Frost's file: manipulative, evil, conniving, promiscuous… although I don't mind the last one…" Logan smirked as he thought of the blonde woman.

Ororo smacked Logan on the arm, playfully.  "Too bad for you that Jean is making her dress more like a real woman, and less like a five-dollar tramp."

"_Fraulein_, I think we are stepping around the BIG question."  Kurt had been carefully pondering this situation, while the others discussed their feelings out loud.  "Can you transfer a person's very soul, along with the information in their mind?  Is that information, those facts… with all the emotions and everything else… is that what a person TOTALLY is?  Because if it is… then this woman is Jean.  But if there is more to us than just the data in our heads, if there is more than just the things we know, the things we feel… then this can't be Jean.  This Grace has the right name.  It was the grace of Jean, and the grace of the Professor, that has given her a new chance at life, because her life as Emma Frost was over."

"Look, Zigfried, I ain't going to argue about souls and stuff with you", Logan answered, "But this lady has everything that Jean let Cyclops have.  From what Scott told me (everyone noticed Logan's use of the names 'Scott'), Jean didn't give him everything, but most of it.  And now it's the engine running Grace, so to speak.  Does that mean she has Jean's soul?  Hell, I don't know if we even have souls!"

"I get what you're saying Kurt", Ororo got up from her seat and sat down on the floor next to her blue friend.  She placed an arm around him.  "Does it make you uncomfortable to be around her?"

"No, it doesn't.  But I see you people wondering if it's Jean or not… but I am convinced that it isn't Jean.  It may be an exact copy of Jean, but it still isn't REALLY Jean Grey.  Jean's memories and emotions actually gives her an advantage over all of you… she knows you the way Jean did.  But you do not know anything about the Emma Frost that is still hidden in there somewhere.  And this Frost was a powerful telepath…"

"He's right Logan…" Ororo added, "Emma Frost was the second most powerful KNOWN telepath on earth. What if she had some kind of psychic backdoor or something to protect herself?  Could 'Grace' be playing us into thinking she's Jean?"

"Hmmmm… I thought of that", said Logan.  "But the truth is that she's a powerful telepath, so she could be monitoring this conversation.  The only real defense against her is Chuck, and yesterday he TOLD me that he's been monitoring all telepathic activity in the mansion.  If this woman uses her powers, he'll know."

"That's comforting, I guess."  Ororo planted a kiss on Kurt Wagner's right cheek, which startled the blue mutant.  "I'm going to my room guys, Goodnight Kurt, goodnight Logan."  She placed a peck on Logan's cheek, but decidedly less conspicuous than Kurt's kiss.  The ebony goddess lithely walked out the door, leaving a blushing blue mutant and a half-drunk mutant sitting in silence.

"She really likes you Ziggy", Logan smirked as he took another drag from his cigarette and put it out.  He would have lit up one of his cigars, but decided not to waste it.  "I can tell.  She don't kiss nobody like that."

"I do not know what you are speaking about.  We are just having a good friendship.  I do not want anything else."  Even Kurt was having a hard time believing that.  He was aching every time he was near Ororo.  The woman sent his heart fluttering by merely entering a room.  The fact that she occasionally showed him some affection was almost too much for him. 

"Yeah right.  Whatever.  Must be me makin' stuff up."  Logan drained the beer can of its last contents.  "Bet that tail of yours could come in REAL handy if you two ever…"

"DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD LOGAN!"  Kurt got up from the floor and made his way to the door.  "I do not try to think of her in that way.  She has shown me kindness and compassion, and I am grateful to just enjoy her company.  Good night… and my name is not Zigfried."

"Goodnight, Kurt", Logan listens for the door to close behind him.  "Heh-heh, yeah, he wants to do her… but he's got no game."  Logan got up from his chair, and decided to leave his room.  He made his way down the hallway, and winced as he caught the faintest sounds of teens making out in their rooms.  "Man, that better not be Marie", he thought.  When he mulled the thought over, his face contorted into a feral grimace, and he went up stairs to where Marie shared a room with some other girls.  His heightened senses picked up Marie's scent behind the door, and he could faintly hear her sleeping.  As he turned to leave, he spied Bobby Drake trying to look inconspicuously as he made his way toward the girls' room.  Because Logan was in a darkened part of the hallway, Bobby hadn't noticed him yet.  Logan waited until the young man was nearing Marie's door, and then cleared his throat, "Ahem… may I help you kid?"

Bobby looked like he had just seen a ghost, or maybe he would BECOME a ghost very, very soon.  His eyes grew wide, and his breath was ragged. "Lo… Lo… Logan", he sputtered, "I was just on my way to… MY OWN room… and I… ummm… got lost.  You know… all the stress of the last few days…"

"Kid, I understand your need to uhhh… RELIEVE STRESS…", Logan smiled a wide toothy grin, that somehow brought NO comfort to Bobby Drake, "but if I catch you trying to relieve YOURSELF with Marie… well… I'll let your imagination run wild with that one."  *SCHUNK* Logan popped one of his claws.  He pointed down the hallway.  "Your room is that way, on the next floor DOWN."  Bobby didn't even protest, or remind Logan that Marie was his girlfriend, or anything else that might get him eviscerated.  He just broke into an outright sprint and disappeared down the hallway. Logan was about to leave, when he heard Marie's door open.

"Logan, what are you doing here?" the sleepy teen asked.  Marie looked beautiful even with her hair undone. She looked like a small child in her pajamas, the picture of innocence, mixed with a seductive beauty that only adolescence could produce.

"Just checking up on you kid.  Were you EXPECTING some company tonight?"  Logan watched as the girl honestly shook her head 'no'.  His heart began beating again once he was sure that Bobby's midnight romp was not Marie's idea.  He could sense if people's heart rate and breathing, and even their body temperature, would adjust to lying.  He didn't sense any such shift in his favorite mutant girl.

"Logan, can we talk… just you and me… if you have time, I mean?" Marie asked.  Logan nodded in affirmation.  There is no way he was letting this chance to have some quality time with Marie slip away.  "Why don't we go to the student lounge, noone will be there at this time of night."  Logan waited for the girl to get reasonably dressed, and walked with her downstairs to the main lobby.

They rounded the corner of the staircase, and walked past the main offices, the academic lecture halls, and went over to the recreational area.  Few students were present, but the couples who were there suddenly got into their best behavior.  A few boy-girl pairs decided to call it a night when they saw Logan enter the room.  Logan and Marie found some comfortable seats, and waited in silence for a few seconds.  Logan finally spoke up.  "What's up kid."

"Well", Marie looked pensive, "It's this blonde lady.  She sounds so much like Jean, it's scary.  Some of the other kids have seen her walking around yesterday, and I actually spoke with her.  Logan, it freaked me out.  The way she talked, she even used expressions that Jean would use."

"I know.  Even the way she looks away while she's thinking, tilts her head down, and smiles that shy smile… it's Jean in there.  Call her Grace.  That's Emma's middle name."

"Yeah, Bobby told me.  But he told me she was a…" Marie blushed.

"A slut-bag?" Logan smiled a bit as he said it.  "Yeah, she was a real piece of a… I mean, a real piece of work.  I suspect that the Jean in her has put that side of her personality in check.  If not, all you girls had better hold on tight to your boyfriends."

"Logan", Marie grabbed Logan's hand gently and looked directly into the older man's eyes, "how do you feel about Bobby?  I mean, do you like him?"

"Yeah, I think he's a good kid… not like that John geek", Logan answered.  

Marie shifted in her seat.  "Logan, what if I told you I don't know if I like Bobby as much as I TRY to like him?  I like him a lot, but lately I've spent more energy TRYING to like him more that I actually do.  It's like, I've hit a wall with him, and I can't get past it."

"Darling, I know how you feel.  Sometimes, we get so used to people, that they almost become… well… boring.  I think that's how Jean was with Scooter when I came along last year.  She loved him, but I presented a diversion. It was easy for her to take for granted that Scott would always be there for her.  But you know what?"

"What?"

"You have to cherish the time you have with people, right here and now.  You will not ALWAYS have them around.  Parents die, kids move away, everything changes… so you have to love people today… right now.  Don't expect the fireworks to always be there, as long as the embers are still burning underneath it all.  If you really love this Bobby Drake, or like him, then think about what made you like him in the first place.  If it's stuff that hasn't changed, then ask yourself what it is that you are really looking for right now."

"Wow… you're so… much deeper than anyone gives you credit for, did you know that?" Marie giggled a little, but she knew he was right.  Logan was telling her to look at herself, not Bobby Drake. The two mutants spent the rest of two hours just talking and catching up on all aspects of their lives.  They hadn't had this kind of bonding time since Logan got back, and it was great to just pretend that the world's problems didn't exist – even if it was just for a short time.  Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms, and he let her do so.  Logan thanked whatever God was listening that he met Marie.  She balanced him in way that noone else did.  If he ever thought he had any paternal instincts, they shined whenever he got around her.  SHE was the reason that he risked his life with the X-Men.  It was for her, and all other children, that gave him the strength for the coming fight – a fight he knew was coming.  And he knew that he had to win, for his sake, her sake, and the sake of all children sleeping quietly next to their parents in every corner of the world.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The rumbling sound of helicopter rotor blades cannot be drowned out, no matter how long you listen to them.  Unlike the noise of raindrops at night, or traffic outside your window, helicopter rotors just have a way of ALWAYS standing out.  Peter Lyman was accustomed to the noise, unlike some of his charges.  The massive Turk, looking pensive as he was checking over his equipment, noticed the Lieutenant re-reading his mission dossier.  "You think we missed something back at the briefing?"

"No, I'm just memorizing the layout of the place.  I was there once before, and I don't want to have the same results – four dead, seven seriously wounded."

"Yeah", Turk agreed, "But this time we go in hot. Captain America is going to stick his foot up their mutant asses and break it off.  Gives me the warm fuzzies."

"I know… we got the tools this time, armor, shielding, anti-psi weapons… hell even the air support.  But this is an extraction, not an alpha-strike.  Remember, we terminate with extreme prejudice… and WE WILL BE GIVING THEM A CHANCE TO SURRENDER."

"I still can't believe that, sir.  No offense, but I think we need to pepper that place with Tomahawks before we go in there."

"And those cruise missiles will kill everyone before we can get our target.  The CLS (Cerebro Locator Sensor) satellite will be over the area in 0900 hours, and that's when we strike.  We're not going in there blind, and we're not giving any of the mental mutants any chance to stop us."

"And what about the others?" Turk asked, "Even without telepaths, they still pack plenty of firepower."

Lyman smiled.  "Yeah, I'm glad they already thought of that." He looked at the enhanced XM-29 'Pulse Rifle'. The XM-29 is also called the OICW (Objective Individual Combat Weapon), and is being developed as part of the U.S. Army's current Land Warrior system.  OICW gives the infantry soldier a capability to acquire targets and precisely detonate an air bursting 20mm projectile approximately 1 meter over the threat.  It can also detonate on impact.  A six-round magazine in the butt of the rifle holds the HE rounds.  The 20 mm round has a dual warhead, which makes it lethal on both sides and gives complete coverage when it explodes.

The OICW has a window mode that can be used to reach the enemy inside a building. A normal round will explode upon impact of a window, limiting its destructive power.  In the window mode, once the round strikes the window it delays exploding by a few milliseconds, so the lethal area is increased inside a room.  The round can also go through thin metal with the same effect.  The sight of the OICW uses Direct View Optics with Video Enhancements. The Direct View Optics is similar to looking at a television screen.  The image can be magnified three times and will include an electronic compass on the screen.  Lyman looked at the rifle, which had been modified to fire adamantium laced ammo.  Their own adamantium/ Kevlar weave was probably the only body armor in existence that would withstand a direct hit from these rifles.  He almost felt sorry for the mutants about to be attacked.  Almost.  These were the ones that cost the lives of his men back at the Aikili Lake.  These were the ones who built the Cerebro device that wreaked worldwide death and havoc.  These were the X-Men… and they were going down tomorrow morning.

That was the plan… and it was good.


	9. The Killing Fields

"The Killing Fields" 

{12 days after the events in X2: X-Men United}

~8:30 am~

Beautiful spruce, pine, and cedar trees cover the outer courtyards and lands surrounding Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.  The huge, Victorian era mansion is a sight in itself, but the finely manicured lawns, sprawling meadows, nature trails, and other amenities adds to the surreal, almost fantasy-like appearance of the hidden locale.  Off the beaten path, the school is nestled in its own wonderland of lush old woods, intermingled with meticulously detailed landscaping.  It is no wonder that at this time of morning, some of the many residents of the school enjoy their morning breakfast sitting in gilded picnic benches, just outside the school cafeteria.

Inside the school, the staff are already awake, and settling into their semi-normal routines.  Professor Xavier, normally able to scan the globe with Cerebro, has opted not to do so, since he has been unable to use the device in the last two weeks.  The last two weeks has seen a tumultuous turn of events.  Not one day after arriving home from Aikili Lake, the X-Men were caught up in four days of limited missions, saving mutants from riots, lynchings, beatings, and other forms of domestic terrorism. If it weren't for his own powers masking the school's identity, perhaps the violence in the world would have come knocking on his pristine doors.  Then the hammer fell on the fifth day, after the authorities regained control in most parts of the world.  The U.S. government's campaign against 'mutant terrorism' kicked into high-gear, and the mutant body count went right through the roof.

It seemed that William Stryker's research may have been the proverbial tip of the iceberg. This troubled Charles, because Stryker's work into controlling mutants was already very advanced.  But if he was just a MINOR player in a much bigger, much wider game, then mutant kind, and maybe mankind in general was about to enter a VERY dangerous period in its volatile history.

"Professor, I said would you like to join Logan and me for breakfast?"  The Professor was broken from his train of thought and looked up to see a smiling Marie at his doorway. How long had she been there?  Apparently long enough to have to repeat her request.

"No thank you, Marie, I have some work to do, but you enjoy yourself, and spend some time with Logan.  You do him a world of good, do you know that?"  The Professor wheeled his electric chair from behind the desk towards Marie.  She smiled at his kind words, and blushed as she thought of the talk she and Logan shared the night before.  It was the closest she ever felt to being loved by a parent… a father.  It felt safe, secure, right… things she never felt with her parents in Mississippi – who secretly loathed her mutation.  These people didn't even put out a missing person report on her, likely glad that they finally had their stress-causing family embarrassment out of the way.  The Professor, trying not to pry into her thoughts, still caught the wave of innate happiness coming from the young lady.  These feelings were the stuff that keep children clutching to their moms, and look up at their dads with curious awe.  Who was he to deny this to Marie, who only now, at this age, was beginning to feel what other children routinely take for granted.

"Okay, I'll see you later", Marie bounded out of the office, and headed down the hallway.  Professor Xavier went back to his desk, reading some reports that troubled him – for some reason, traffic, both commercial and pedestrian, was being re-routed away from the area by local authorities.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The cafeteria was only half full at this time in the morning.  Though this was usually the busiest time of the day, half the students were out doors enjoying the warmth of the perfect weather.  Among the throng of morning eaters, Colossus sat at one end of a large, silver-plated table next to Bobby Drake and Marie – the other "junior" X-Men.  The three youngsters were not full-fledged members of Charles Xavier's covert strike-team, but they were recently informed by Cyclops that the next phase of their training would be "in the field".  Cyclops also noted that the team is short-handed, with the loss of, arguably, their most powerful member.  The defection of St. John Allerdyce, the powerful mutant known as Pyro, also thinned their ranks quite a bit.  Piotr Rasputin never did like St. John.  *That guy is a world-class loser*, he grinned inwardly as the thought crossed his mind.  *I hope I get to put my fist THROUGH his puny head and…* but his thoughts were cut short.

Logan caught up with Marie at the cafeteria.  He had already sat down and was moving over next to the three young mutants when they noticed him.  Piotr wore a casual smile, Marie's face glowed with recognition, and Bobby's face looked like the blood had completely drained from it.  Still, the Iceman forced a polite, although quite creepy, smile.  "Good mornin'.  Mind if an old Canuck joins ya?"  Logan grinned that feral, toothy grin of his.

"No problem, I was expecting you", Marie said as she scooted over and let Logan sit next to her.  "I'm glad you sat here with us instead of with Scott.  You've been having breakfast with him for the last few days."

"Yeah", said Piotr, "I thought you guys weren't exactly pals… but now…"

"You're acting like butt-buddies", Bobby blurted with a chuckle.  Piotr stifled a laugh, and Marie shot Mr. Drake a scathing look. Logan actually laughed himself while continuing to eat his food, much to Bobby's relief.

"You know kid, I HAVE been pal-ling around with Scooter lately.  But the man needs some REAL friends right now", Logan said, not even looking up at Bobby.  "Everybody just expects him to be the 'Fearless Leader' and don't care about what's really eatin' him up inside.  Funny how I'm the one he's been talkin' to, even though some folks have known 'im for years… don't ya think?"  And with that, Bobby Drake decided he was NOT going to speak again for the rest of the morning.  He began eating his breakfast with a fervor and intensity that few had ever witnessed.  Piotr shrugged, not being a resident of the mansion all that long, but Marie knew exactly what Logan meant.  Scott was the kind of guy that people leaned on.  But who did Scott lean on?

Just as she was about to comment, Scott Summers walked into the cafeteria, wearing a boyish grin.  Before anyone could speak to him, they noticed that he was followed in by Emma Frost, although she was now calling herself Grace.  Even in more conservative garb, Frost was stunningly beautiful.  And she still had a penchant for white clothing – her loose fitting slacks, v-neck blouse, and tennis shoes were all completely white.  The outfit gave her a radiant glow that was almost ambient.  Even though her attire covered her completely, it still couldn't hide the woman's voluptuous curves.  The males in the room, and even some of the females, were momentarily stunned into silence.  Eventually, awkward conversations began anew, as Scott and Grace were waved over by Logan to come join him and the young mutants.

Sitting down beside Logan, Scott greeted the others with his customary "Good Morning all."  Grace sat next to Scott and smiled at the group, letting her head tilt slightly, making her golden bangs flip a little over her face.  Piotr stared intensely at the woman, in fact, so intensely that Bobby stomped on his foot under the table to make him stop. Grace blushed as she couldn't stop some of the Russian mutant's lustful thoughts from entering her mind.  She just bit her lower lip to stifle a smile, and ate her food.  Scott, not to mention Logan and Marie, caught that little mannerism, and all thought the same thing: this woman is behaving EXACTLY like Jean.

"So, you two been hitting it off lately" Logan stated.  Grace glanced up at Logan, then at Scott, seeming to prod him to answer for them both.

Scott took the queue and spoke up, "Grace got me out of my hiding place yesterday. I was rather rough with her, but I'm glad she came by (looking at Grace).  We talked a bit last night about what we're both going through… and it was great."

"Yeah", Grace finally spoke demurely, "There's so much going on inside my head.  Everything's very… strange… yet comforting at the same time.  Like a dream where nothing looks right, yet you still seem to recognize everything.  Am I making any sense?"  As Grace spoke, she had a tendency to look away while she formed thoughts, and then locked onto the eyes of the listeners – another dead-on Jean behavior.  

Bobby Drake couldn't help himself, he asked her bluntly, "Ms. Grey, is that you?"  Scott stopped eating and looked at Grace, and Logan was taken back by the young mutant's brashness, but no one faulted him, because they were all thinking it.  In fact, the entire school, for the last two days, was wondering about the woman who acted like a Jean Grey clone.  Was she really Jean, or just some doppelganger pulling the wool over everyone's eyes?

"The easy answer is…" Grace let out a breath, "No, I'm not Jean Grey."  She looked at Scott, who clenched his teeth as a rush of thoughts threatened to overwhelm him.  Grace studied him as she spoke, "I guess, I'm the first person who ever had a 'personality transplant' (Grace smiled slightly).  I'm Emma Frost, with Jean's personality, and some of Jean's memories… and some of Jean's… (after a short pause, she spoke in almost a whisper) everything.  Does that make sense to you?"

"So", Logan summed up, "You got Jean's mind pasted over what was left o' your own?"

"Yes, something like that", Grace smiled and nodded, and again, it was Jean's patented half-smile.  "That's why I'm using my middle name now, because I don't feel like Emma Frost anymore, even though I know her VERY well."  Suddenly, the smile fades off of Grace's face.  She looked positively startled, and Scott instinctively reached out for her hand to steady her. "Oh my God… everything is so… silent" she whispers.  No one understood what she meant by that statement.

At that moment, the school's emergency alarm sounds off.  It was a screeching, high-pitched sound, mixed with a low rumbling tremor.  Professor Xavier's voice comes in over the P.A. system – "All students, you are to be in your dorm rooms immediately.  This is not a drill.  It is imperative that EVERYONE be in their rooms, IMMIDIATELY.  All X-Men, report to my ready-room."  At the old man's words, everyone, both inside and outside the mansion, sprung into action.  The recent attack by Stryker had made all the students weary about school alarms.  Judging from the stress in the Professor's voice, this was going to be another harrowing attack.  

"You guys are coming with us", Scott told the three junior X-Men.  All the X-Men, and Grace Frost, joined the Professor in his ready-room, a room usually reserved for mission briefings, and action planning.  When the others noticed Grace Frost in the room, Storm was about to protest, but the Professor cut her off, "It's all right Ororo, I asked for her as well – she may be helpful to us."  Storm stifled a retort, and focused on the meeting at hand.  "I'm sure you're all wondering what the alarm is about.  About three minutes ago, my powers, as I'm sure Grace's powers… have completely stopped functioning."

"What?" Scott asked, "How could that be?"

"What do mean Professor?" Marie said, "You can't use your powers at all?"

"No child I can not", the Professor responded, looking grim.  "Suddenly the entire world went eerily quiet."

"I felt it too", Grace said, "It was like someone flipped a switch and turned it all off.  I'm just getting some kind of background static… like a mental ringing in my head."

"Vat is the cause?" Kurt wondered allowed, "Do you think we are in danger?"

"I think we're in deep sh*t", Logan said, "This could be a prep move for a strike."

"He's right", Scott added, "I bet that no mutant in the mansion who relies on telepathy or telekenisis can use their powers right now.  That's about ten percent of the student body.  Professor, do you think other mutant powers will be affected?"

"I theorize that ANY mutant power requiring mental processes similar to telepathic powers is being affected", The Professor explained.  "We need to prepare the escape routes for the students."  The clock on the wall read….

~9:14am~

The timekeeper on the helicopter's console read exactly 9:14am.  The pilot glanced over the controls, looking over his myriad sensors, and noted that they were en route to their target, and on schedule.  This man was piloting an AH-64D Apache Longbow, the United State's premier attack helicopter.  The Apache is a twin-engined army attack helicopter developed by McDonnell Douglas (now Boeing).  The US Army has more than 800 Apaches in service and more than 1,000 have been exported.   It entered service with the US Army in 1984, and was first used in combat in 1989 in Panama.  Since then it has been in just about every conflict the US has been in, including the new war on mutant terrorism.  Today, five AH-64D's were converging on Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, spearheading an operation that many Washington insiders knew was long in coming.  

These aircraft were armed to the teeth.  A 30mm M230 Chain Gun is located under the fuselage. It provides a rate of fire of 625 rounds per minute. The helicopter has capacity for up to 1,200 rounds of ammunition.  The AH-64D is armed with the AGM-114D Hellfire air-to-surface missile, which has a millimeter wave seeker: allowing the missile to perform in full fire-and-forget mode. Range is 8km - 12km. These Apaches are also equipped with air-to-air missiles (Stingers, AIM-9 Sidewinders, Mistrals, and Sidearms) and 2.75in rockets.

The Longbows are escorting two UH-60 Black Hawks.  The Black Hawk is the Army's front-line utility helicopter used for air assault, air cavalry, and aero-medical evacuation.  It is designed to carry 11 combat-loaded, air-assault troops… and today it is being used for just that purpose.  These Black Hawks are carrying the men of Captain America, a covert strike team, with weapons specifically designed to combat mutant threats.  Captain America knew the goal: to capture or kill the X-Men and Emma Grace Frost, regardless of collateral damage or casualties.

Under the helicopters, several vehicles are rumbling towards the school, in tight formation.  They were elements of the Army's 1st Armored Division, 1st Brigade: "The Forerunners".  The taskforce today consisted of twelve M1025 'Humvees', armed with M60, 7.62mm machine guns, M2 .50 caliber machine guns, and MK 19 Grenade Launchers.  All the ammunition was now adamantium laced, ensuring penetration of any known armor.  

Six M2A3 Bradley Fighting Vehicles, armed with their customary ATK 25mm M242 chain guns and TOW BGM-71 anti-tank missile systems, transported several more platoons of soldiers toward the school.  Sitting on top of the Bradley's were some odd equipment that resembled signal boosters.  In actuality, these devices were signal relays that were specifically designed to intensify the Cerebro-like signals from the newly deployed anti-mutant GPS satellites.  

And somewhere above the fray, there flew an E-3 Sentry AWACS (Airborne Warning And Control System) jet, relaying data and theater information to the task force, which included the USS Ramage, an Aegis missile destroyer parked 200 miles away in the Atlantic.  Close behind the Sentry, a lone F-15E Strike Eagle fighter jet flew in formation, waiting for some specific orders to obliterate some targets below.  Operation Avenger had finally arrived in Westchester.

~9:21am~

"Professor, all the students are assembled in the main lobby – per your orders", Scott reported.

"Well done", the Professor commented.  "Get them ready for evacuation.  We don't know how much time we'll have to…"  The Professor was cut off by a sudden burst of broken glass, a sonic boom-like noise, and a violent tremor that shook the ready room like a major earthquake.  The X-Men were jolted to the ground!

"What the hell?"  Logan sputtered.  Another explosion rocked the school, and shook the room just as violently as the first.  It didn't take Wolverine's heightened senses to hear the collective screams of the school's children in the lobby, or the helicopter blades out side the school.  Cyclops and the others got up quickly and ran out of the room.  Piotr, changing into his Colossus form, was about to pick up the Professor and his wheelchair, but Kurt waved him off and simply touched the old man.  In puff of smoke and brimstone, the two of them were gone.

Nightcrawler and the Professor arrived in the center of the lobby, in the midst of the frightened school children.  The students were huddled in the center of the large main lobby.  The entire structure rocked vigorously as another explosion was heard from somewhere in the southern wing of the school: the dorm section.  The rest of the X-Men came down the main lobby stairwell, and into the lobby below.  After making a quick headcount, Storm spoke up, "They're blowing up the southern and eastern sections of the mansion."

"The dorms and the classrooms?  Why?" asked Marie.

"Because all those areas had multiple exits", said Logan, "And because they don't give a flying crap about killing any students that would be caught up in there!"  With that, Wolverine's claws came jutting out of his arms.  He could hear it all now, smell it too.  The helicopters outside, the armored vehicles, the soldiers, and all their weapons were surrounding the school.  Another explosion shook the lobby, and this time a burst of flames and rubble came spewing out of the hallways leading to the northern rear section of the school.

"They've cut us off from all the exits", said Scott, assessing the situation.  "I think they knew we'd head to the lobby.  They've been blasting the mansion from the outside in."

"How come?", asked Colossus, "Unless…"

"Unless they know the layout of the school", Scott cut him off.  Scott gestured for Logan to follow him to the rear of the lobby, to the secret panel that led to the escape route they used when Stryker had attacked weeks earlier.  Wolverine opened it, and sniffed down the darkened shaft.  He stepped in and was gone for a few seconds… then came running out and dove for the floor.  Scott, realizing what was going on, shut the door and dove for the floor as well.  Another explosion rumbled through the shaft and blew flames, rocks, and other debris through the panel door.  "What happened Wolverine?"

"The a**holes fired some kind of missiles through the other end of the escape tunnel.  They knew it was there.  They're caving it in", Logan said as he sucked in air in heaving breaths. Scott offered him a hand as they got up, and the two of them walked back to the main lobby to inform the others: there was no way out but through the front door.

~9:40am~

AH-64D Apache Longbows circled the school, one on each side.  The Black Hawks were hanging back, waiting for the "go code" to enter the hot "LZ" (Landing Zone).  The Apaches sprayed the school/mansion's outer wings and sections with 2.75in rockets, sending glass, wood, and twisted metal jutting up and out in every direction. 

And they knew what they were hitting.  The AH-64D Apache Longbow is equipped with the Target Acquisition Designation Sight (TADS), and the Pilot Night Vision Sensor (PNVS).  These provide direct view optics, television, and three fields of view with a Forward Looking Infra-Red (FLIR) sensor to carry out all search, detection, and recognition functions.  Add to that a Litton laser rangefinder/designator, and basically they could see exactly where the students and faculty were moving at all times.  On top of that, the Cerebro-modified GPS satellites were providing pinpoint data on the locations of all mutants in the entire area.  This data was being relayed through the E-3 AWACS jet, soaring above, and sent to every helicopter and armored vehicle.  

The Captain America soldiers received all this information as well because of the super compact communication systems in each of their helmets.  These included special monocles that had built in HUDS (Heads-Up Displays).  These HUDS showed them exact target data: including location information, and what type of armor the targets had.  The sensor on the HUD had a crosshair that was electronically tied to the barrel of their modified XM-29 Pulse Rifles.  Wherever they pointed the rifle, the crosshair would go.  This little innovation meant that each soldier knew exactly were his gun was pointed at all times, and increased average accuracy by a whopping 530%.

Bradley fighting vehicles and Humvees rumbled in and took positions right outside the front of the school.  If the plan was carried out properly, this would be the only way out of the mansion.  The Apaches were carefully destroying all the other sections of the school, which seemed to have been deserted.  The Bradley's used their Mk29 Grenade Launchers to pepper the outer walls with explosives, reducing all the beautiful outer masonry to burnt-out shambles.

A ship-launched Tomahawk cruise missile came flying in from the east – launched from the USS Ramage in the Atlantic. The missile slammed into the school's basketball court, blasting open the reinforced doors of the X-Men's secret underground hangar.  High above, the E-3 Sentry jet signaled the F-15E Strike Eagle to close in and destroy its designated target.  The F-15E was carrying a Guided Bomb Unit-28, better known as a "Bunker Buster".  The GBU-28 is a special weapon developed for penetrating hardened Iraqi command centers located deep underground. The GBU-28 is a 5,000-pound laser-guided conventional munition that uses a 4,400-pound penetrating warhead. The jet dropped the powerful bomb, which glided effortlessly right into the X-Men's exposed hangar.  Upon detonation, the entire underground structure was decimated, and, along with it, the X-Men's ultra-advanced Blackbird jet.  There was nothing left to salvage, as expected when you drop an $18.2 million dollar bomb. 

~9:53am~

The younger students screamed and cried as they huddled near the center of the lobby.  The enormous explosion that came from where the basketball courts USED to be shook the lobby, and debris was flying down on top of them from destroyed upper levels.

"This is happening too fast!" said Ororo.

"That's the point, Storm" replied Scott, "They're trying to keep us confused so they can move in."  Cyclops pointed toward the front of the school, and the X-Men saw the armored division closing in on the once pristine Victorian mansion.  They saw as soldiers embarked from the Bradley fighting vehicles, and took up positions in a makeshift perimeter.

"Looks like Army Rangers", said Logan, unsure as to how he could identify the soldiers so easily.

"Stay calm, everyone", ordered the Professor. "Bobby Drake, prepare to encase the front of the school in ice.  Storm, I need you to cause a weather disturbance of EXTREME magnitude and…"  The Professor was caught off by the sound of a hysterical student.  Fred Dukes, known to his classmates as "Blob", just snapped under the stress and agony of the repeated explosions.

"I ain't gonna die here man!" The boy yelled.  "I'll kill those bastards myself!"  Young Mr. Dukes, possessor of vast physical strength, charged out of the lobby and into the courtyard.  Army Rangers saw the charging mutant teen, and trained their weapons on him instantly.  Scott Summers yelled at Nightcrawler to get the boy back inside.  Nightcrawler sprung into action… but it was too late.

As Nightcrawler appeared just behind Fred Dukes… adamantium laced bullets were already ripping through the body of the mutant teenager.  Kurt Wagner barely got his hands on the already dying boy, before disappearing to avoid being hit by the gunfire.  He did indeed manage to teleport the teen back into the lobby, whose body was racked with bullet holes and bleeding profusely.  The students gasped in horror, some visibly overcome with grief.  Fred Dukes couldn't even speak, his choking breaths barely escaping his mouth.  Blood gurgled out of his mouth for about a few seconds, and then his eyes lost focus: he was dead.

"No, no, no, nooooooo!" An equally hysterical Sam Guthrie let out a primordial scream as he slammed his fists into the ground.  Sam, known as Cannonball, had a strange mutation.  Cannonball possesses the ability to bodily generate thermo-chemical energy, and release it from his skin. This energy, released by an act of will, is accompanied by smoke, flame, and condensation, much like the exhaust of a rocket engine. At his present level of experience, he can only release this energy in one direction, beneath him.  The reaction to this sudden thrust causes his body to be propelled through the air like a human rocket.

As a side effect of forming the thermo-chemical energies over the surface of his body, Cannonball becomes nearly invulnerable. Accompanying the release of energy is a half-inch thick energy field that channels the explosion and protects his skin from the direct effects of the blast.  It also negates momentum and related energy effects, thereby cushioning his entire body from any impact.  Not only is he protected from rough landings, but he is also protected from many types of injury while in flight.  The young mutant ignited his jet stream… and tore full speed out the front of the school.

"Holy sh*t", yelled one Army Ranger, "What the fu…"  Sam Guthrie slammed into a platoon of soldiers… who then slammed into several different armored vehicles.  The young mutant veered high into the air, and arced back toward another group of soldiers.  The soldiers fired their modified M-16's, but hit nothing.  Cannonball was just too fast, being a blur of motion followed by a trail of smoke and flames.  Bradley's and Humvees tried training their chain guns on the flying youth, but Cannonball bobbed and weaved too quickly for the guns to keep up.  However, an Apache closed in on Cannonball's position, followed by another.

Cannonball saw the attack helicopter coming in close behind him.  "I got a visual on the target", said the pilot.  "Wait a minute, what the hell is he doing?"  Cannonball increased his speed, and doubled back on his course.  The young mutant was now heading full bore directly at the Apache's rotor blades.  The pilot, realizing what the mutant was about to do, veered his copter to the right, tilting the iron bird just enough so that Cannonball collided with his tail rotor.  A huge explosion shattered the copter's tail, sending it spinning out of control into a nearby thicket of trees.  

Cannonball was barely hurt at all.  In fact, he didn't even notice the impact… but he also didn't notice that one of the other Apache's had already launched a Hellfire missile at him.  "Die mutie!" the pilot growled.  Cannonball tried outrunning the missile, but even he wasn't that fast.  The missile closed on him. He tried to evade the flying munition, but no matter how he weaved and turned, the missile was right on his tail, and closing even faster.  Another Apache sprayed a cloud of 30mm machine gun fire in front of him, causing him to veer away, and leave him wide open for the missile.  The young man closed his eyes, knowing he would be dead in less than a second.  But suddenly, he was back in the mansion lobby.

"Nightcrawler, get all the students out of here." Scott barked an order, as he began blasting the armored vehicles with cover fire.  Cyclops fired his wide beam, some five feet in width, and then moved the deadly energy back and forth over the soldiers.  Storm's eyes were already glazed over, and right outside the mansion, massive cumulus clouds rolled in – covering the sky.  The temperature immediately dropped below freezing, and hurricane winds began sending sheets of ice and snow on the soldiers and vehicles out side.  Bobby Drake, known as Iceman, instantly began covering the grounds outside the school with a thick layer of ice, effectively halting the advance of all ground vehicles.  Nightcrawler began transporting the students, in groups, to a location just over the visible horizon – some twenty-two miles away.  It was a strange evacuation, but an effectively quick one.

~10:11am~

Inside the E-3 AWACS jet, a team of mission specialists from the M.I.B. are pouring over theater changes caused by the sudden weather patterns.  The Airborne Radar technician calmly identified that several targets were literally disappearing from the mission theater and, according to the Cerebro-satellites, suddenly appearing twenty-two miles west of the mansion.

"Are you sure lieutenant?" asked General Thaddeus Ross, who was personally commanding this operation.  "What do you mean they're gone?"

"Sir", answered the technician, "Some mutant is teleporting targets away from the mansion."

"Teleporting?" asked an incredulous General Ross.

"Here is the file", another technician, a young man in his late twenties turned around to reveal information on his LCD screen.  She was one of the mission information specialists sent from the M.I.B. to provide intelligence and other data.  "One of our targets is a Kurt Wagner, the mutant who attempted to assassinate the president almost a month ago."

General Ross skimmed the vast data in the file.  "Teleportation?  This mutant's an EXTREME threat.  Captain Greer, contact the M.I.B.  Scramble whatever assets we have in the area to the teleportation site!"

"Already on it sir", said the young female technician.  Captain Greer relayed all information from the Global Broadcast Service (GBS) to M.I.B. headquarters in Washington.  After several seconds, she received an affirmative answer.  "General Ross, M.I.B. is already sending units to intercept the escaped mutants.  Cerebro signal intensity is being increased in the area to Code Orange."

"Orange? Well, that's one way of avoiding a fight."  General Ross referred to a procedure developed for Operation Avenger that mirrored the Cerebro attack from Aikili Lake.  Modified satellites, the same ones used to detect mutants, were also equipped with transmitters that could blanket a small area with the mind scrambling "kill" signals – at various intensities.  At code orange, the signals were designated to disable all mutants in the area.  However, they were not used on the Westchester mansion due to the risk that an untimely mishap would result in many human casualties, such as what happened at Aikili Lake.  This was not a risk that the M.I.B. was willing to take… yet.  "Order the Apaches to pull back from the LZ.  Have the 'Forerunners' pull back to 500 feet off the place.  Contact Commander Young at the U.S.S. Ramage.  Have them prepare four cruise missiles to hit that zone, on my mark."

"What about Captain America, General?" Another M.I.B. intelligence officer asked. "The Black Hawks have already touched down on the roof of the school. They're in, sir.  We're tracking their every movement as we speak."

"What's their E.T.A. to the targets?" Asked the General.

"They are 30 seconds away from full engagement, holding and awaiting the 'go code'", answered Captain Greer.

General Ross thought about his next order.  Should he evac the team, and destroy the mansion, or should Captain America be given a chance to fulfill their mission: capturing the X-Men?  "Open up a channel to Lieutenant Lyman."  One of the communications officers tapped his keyboard furiously.  Suddenly, a haggard soldier's voice could be heard over a nearby loudspeaker.  
"Lyman here, awaiting orders sir!" Peter Lyman's voice had a soothing calmness that betrayed the dire situation they were in.  His men could be heard behind him, but just barely.

"Lieutenant, you and your men have exactly 7 minutes to pacify the mutant threat.  SEVEN MINUTES, no more!  We'll be monitoring your vitals from here, and if you take more than 50% casualties…" General Ross paused a moment, "We're letting the Tomahawks fly, son."

"Understood, sir.  My men and I knew the risks of this operation", Lyman answered.  "We won't let you down."

"Just give 'em hell, boy", the General said, "Give 'em hell.  You have permission to 'go' at your discretion."

"Yes, sir…" Lyman's voice crackled through the loudspeaker, and then the radio went dead.

~10:13~

"Professor, it's been a wshile since Nightcrawler has returned from his last jump.  What's going on?"  Ororo grew worried as her blue friend failed to rematerialize since his last teleportation.  The German mutant had just transported the last of the students away from the mansion, but had yet to come back.  The others began to wonder if the soldiers hadn't gotten to him (and the students) first.

"We must assume that he's been… detained", Scott said, not wanting to admit that he was fearing for the mutant's life as well. "Just concentrate on the task at hand… getting out of here alive."

"Heads up kids, we got company!" Logan unsheathed his claws, because he could smell the intruders upstairs. He looked intently up at the main stairwell, even though there was noone at the top.  The others joined him, in close formation, not knowing what Wolverine was concerned about, but trusting his instincts.

Suddenly, bullets started coming through the walls above the staircase – but these weren't regular ammo.  These were High Explosive rounds, fired from Captain America's modified XM-29 rifles.  The munitions were fired in "window mode" and set with a delayed timer.  The X-Men had absolutely no time to react, as the rounds exploded in their midst, causing tossing them about the room, and knocking them against the walls and floor… hard.  Marie looked at her leg, it was bleeding and had several cuts and wounds.  She grimaced in pain and fought back tears, trying to be as 'brave' as she could be.

Wolverine smelled blood.  His own for sure, since a HE round exploded just a few inches in front of him, but he could smell someone else's.  Marie's!  His feral rage overtook him, and his claws, which had collapsed back into his arms during after he was thrown back, jutted out of his arms again.  Showing a speed that defied logic, the old mutant dashed up the stairs and ripped through the walls of the hallway.  Several shots could be heard, and then three bodies came crashing through the stairway railing, and fell twenty feet to the lobby below.  The men impacted the tiled floor with a sickening thud.  Two Captain America soldiers slowly recovered and tried finding their weapons, while Wolverine quickly sprang to his feet and buried his claws into the nearest soldier.

The man let out a yelp, that was cut off as the rabid mutant ripped his arm sideways across the man's body – sending blood, armor chunks, and sliced organs spraying across the floor. The other soldier recovered his weapon, and aimed right at Logan's chest.  In a split second, 30 adamantium laced bullets tore through Logan's abdomen, actually breaking some of his adamantium ribs, and puncturing his vital organs in several places.  Wolverine tried to lunge at the man, but fell to the ground, face first… his claws retracting back into his arms.  Cyclops drew a bead on the soldier, who was about to open fire on the X-Men… and fired an optic blast that literally smashed the armored man through the main lobby doors and flung him outside – some 200 feet away.

At the top of the stairwell, Captain America poured out of the hallway.  The men took up positions and readied their weapons, aiming at the prone X-Men.  Storm's eyes glazed over, hoping she would have enough time to cause some kind of disruption to the soldiers' coming onslaught.  "Open fire!" Lieutenant Lyman yelled, and the soldiers let loose with a full barrage of gunfire.  A cloud of adamantium laced bullets rained down at the X-Men, who were about to meet with certain death…

To Be Concluded…

**Author's Note:**

I had to end it… it was getting WAY too long.  But fear not, I already have the next part in the works.  And yes, people die. But who?  You'll have to wait for the next and FINAL chapter: "To Be or Not To Be"  AND THANKS TO ALL WHO REVIEWED IT.  I write a lot quicker the more feedback I get: good, bad, or ugly.  So please, feel free to comment on any of it.


	10. To Be Or Not To Be

"To Be…" 

A hail of bullets rained down on the prone X-Men… enough adamantium-laced bullets to rip every person on the ground to shreds. Scott Summers looked at the bullets… it was as if they were slowing down – perhaps his mind extending the last moment of his life. This life would soon end, and he would join his soulmate in the beyond - to be bound together in eternity's embrace. 

The bullets just hung there for a second, then three… then five… Suddenly, the sounds of the real world assaulted his ears! These suspended bullets were not a figment of his imagination. The bullets were actually hanging in mid-air, stopped dead in their tracks. Cyclops could now hear the bewildered gasps from the soldiers assembled in the staircase.

"Lieutenant, what's happening?" growled one soldier.

"I thought these muties couldn't use their Psycho sht!" screamed another.

"Reload!" yelled Lieutenant Peter Lyman, leader of Captain America. "Wait… check fire! Check fire!" Lyman held his fists up, and the other soldiers stopped reloading their weapons. One young soldier was about to ask him why they weren't firing but Lyman cut him off and simply whispered… "H.E. rounds." Then he pointed at two lone figures standing on the far rear of the damaged lobby. One of the figures was a young man, blonde-haired and wearing a strange metallic headband. The other figure was unmistakable. It was an older man, gray-haired, aristocratic in appearance, and wearing a strange magenta-colored helmet on his head. MAGNETO had arrived. "FIRE!"

Captain America fired another barrage, this time made up of High Explosive rounds, set to detonate on impact. In the speed of sound, the lethal shells hurtled towards their intended targets, but without the slightest impact. The H.E. rounds slowed down in mid air, as Magneto stretched out his arm, and they eventually came to yet another dead stop. "Come now, did you think that your weapons would suffice to kill the Master of Magnetism?" he said smugly, "It would seem that you gentlemen need a lesson in respecting your BETTERS!"

The old man's eyes flashed with a malevolent, yet silent, rage as the H.E. projectiles, along with the adamantium bullets, began spinning and swirling in a makeshift tornado. The explosive adamantium storm contorted and spun towards the soldiers on the upper lobby staircase, buzzing and swirling like angry hornets. "Retreat, take cover..!" was all Lyman could yell before the bullet-cloud slammed into the stair case. Adamantium bullets collided with the volatile ordinance. The result: Magneto created an adamantium claymore mine. A HUGE EXPLOSION spewed adamantium shrapnel in all directions in the upper lobby, and sent the entire top half of the staircase, along with twelve of the Captain America team members, careening to the ground. Had it not been for their adamantium weave armor, nearly indestructible… they would have all perished. Still, the fall left many of them incapacitated for the moment. 

Charles Xavier gained his composure and yelled at his former friend, "Erik, STOP THIS MADNESS! This has gone far enough. Can't you see that this is why they think we're a threat? If you kill them, you'll just validate all their worst fears about mutant-kind!"

"Are YOU mad, my old friend?" Magneto answered, "In case you didn't notice Charles, the humans have ALREADY started the war you, in your self-righteous delusion, sought to avoid. You can't avoid it any longer Charles. It's here. The Apocalypse is NOW!"

"No Erik, it is not. Mankind is merely reacting to the magnitude of the Cerebro disaster. Over a million people were killed that day, hundreds of thousands gravely injured, even more will surely die…" Charles Xavier's voice quivered a little as he pondered his own words. "It was my fault… our fault! All the bloodshed since then… all because of us…"

"It wasn't your fault Professor", yelled Cyclops, "Stryker's mutant was controlling your mind, and MAGNETO made the changes to Cerebro. He could've easily stopped Cerebro, or destroyed it, but instead, he chose to kill. HE'S THE MURDERER, NOT YOU!" The X-Men's field commander was burning with hatred and anger. Not only had Magneto caused a human holocaust that was unheard of in recent times, but he also helped cause the death of his beloved Jean.

"My only mistake… is that I didn't kill ENOUGH humans that day. But I will not make that mistake again!" Magneto sneered a sly grin. "Pyro, show these gentlemen your way with fire." The young mutant, who stood silently beside his leader, raised his hand. 

Marie, who was sitting on the floor, rocking a waking Wolverine back and forth, said to her former classmate, "John, wait… this is going too far! We got to figure out a way to stop this… not make it worse!" Tears streaked down the young mutant girl's cheeks. Not only was the pain of her shrapnel wounds too much to bear, but seeing her friend Pyro looking so… sinister, so cold and callous, made her feel deeply guilty about not doing "enough" to stop John from joining with Magneto.

"You called it Rogue", said Pyro, smiling eerily, "I'm stopping this right now!" Fires that were scattered throughout the room suddenly leapt off of their previous spots and merged in the center of the room, into a spectacular fireball. The ball of fire intensified, until the heat was searing, causing the surrounding area to begin to scorch. 

The young man flicked his wrist, and sent the flaming sphere hurtling at the fallen soldiers. Peter Lyman, looking at the blazing object, muttered a silent prayer. It was answered. Just as the flying inferno was about to smash and burn the Captain America team, a man jumped, or rather FELL, in the path of the flames and let the fireball collide with his falling body. The explosion was hellacious. A bright flash of light was followed by a loud, thunderous booming noise. The entire expansive lobby, and what was left of the mansion, shook violently. The charred remains of Anthony "Turk" Grayson lay at the base of a 6-foot crater in the center of the lobby. 

Logan, who was now awake, and Scott Summers, looked stoically at the timely sacrifice of an unknown soldier (to them). Scott Summers turned to his healing comrade and nodded silently, as if some telepathic communication was sent between them – though neither possessed any such ability. Was this man, who just gave up his life for his friends, different from them? The death of the soldier reminded Scott Summers of another similar sacrifice which occurred just under two weeks ago – made by the woman they both loved. In as much as this lone man represented the spirit of humanity, so did Jean. And if both mutants and non-mutants alike shared the human spirit, then how could they ever see each other as different. This new conflict needed a new solution, and the X-Men's leader knew what had to be done. Somehow, he knew that the Wolverine, at some level, understood… and agreed.

As for Lieutenant Lyman, he unsuccessfully blinked back tears, as he silently raised his weapon and fired a barrage of H.E. rounds at Pyro's head. Magneto's powers easily stopped the rounds from hitting and killing his young protégé. Lyman's head sunk in defeat, letting out a deep breathe in resignation to his fate. 

"You see, Charles", Magneto gloated, "As I said before… We are the FUTURE. Not them."

"I don't know if we're the future, you old bastard", Cyclops spit through gritted teeth, "But at least we HAVE a future!" With that, the X-Men leader fired an optic blast at the suspended high explosive shells. The shells, which hung just a foot and a half between Pyro and Magneto's collective heads, exploded in a loud boom and sent fire, shrapnel, and smoke in all directions. A smoke cloud enveloped Pyro's and Magneto's bodies… temporarily shrouding them from view. Pyro's form materialized first, as if walking through the haze. But then, he suddenly stopped, and his HEADLESS corpse tumbled forward… a smoldering hole ripped from where his neck would have been. Marie screamed in horror, as she watched Pyro's lifeless body hit the ground, and quickly grow cold.

Magneto stumbled forward as well, his head looking badly burnt in certain spots. The hair under his helmet looked matted and bloody. Otherwise, the helmet he wore had saved his life, again. Wolverine abruptly stood up, walked over to the burnt body of the soldier known as Turk, and borrowed the dead man's still-working OICW rifle. He then walked over to the semi-conscious Erik Lensherr. 

"Logan, don't so this…" pleaded Charles Xavier, "There are other ways to deal with adversaries… to work out differences… even in times such as…" 

Wordlessly, Logan squeezed the trigger and watched Magneto's head explode into a crimson pool. It was short and sweet – no last words for Erik Lensherr. He then turned to an utterly stunned Xavier, speaking, "You know Chuck… sometimes justice has to be quick and FINAL. This man deserved to die… and everybody in the whole world deserved to kill him."

Peter Lyman was speechless as he watched the whole scene unfold in sheer astonishment. The very mutants he had been sent to capture or kill… had just saved his life. He fumbled for his communicator and flicked open his radio, opening a channel to the AWACS airborne control center. "General Ross here", answered a voice from the other end. "Lieutenant, what's the situation? In less than a minute I'm commanding those cruise missiles to start launching."

"Belay that launch General", Lyman explained, "The situation is under control, and we have a bonus: Erik Lensherr… known as Magneto… is dead and accounted for."

"WHAT???" General Ross's voice was hardly heard over the din of cheers and claps that erupted from the crew of the AWACS. The room was still clamoring as the General continued to speak, "Are you shttin' me son? You tellin' me that you bagged that son of a bcth?"

"No sir", Peter spoke, now noticing that the entire X-Men were looking at him intently, "We need to thank the X-Men for that bit of work. They saved the lives of my men and me, (looking over at Turk) most of my men… even after we tried to kill them. What are your orders?" The rest of the Captain America team was now getting up and reaching for their weapons. The X-Men took up defensive positions on the opposite side of the room. "What are your orders, over?"

Before anyone else could speak, Charles Xavier wheeled forward, placing himself in the middle of the fray. "We surrender", he said. "There will be no more bloodshed for today." The other X-Men were about to protest, but the Professor glared at all them and firmly ordered them, "Stand down, everyone. This is over."

Peter Lyman, having just received his instructions, stepped forward and said, nonchalantly, "Charles Xavier, you and your covert strike team, known as the X-Men, are hereby placed under arrest by authority of the Mutant Investigations Bureau." 

"Agreed", said a stern faced Xavier.

"Sir", said the young officer, "We owe you and your people a debt of thanks, and an apology… and (looking around the blasted out remains of the school)… so much more…"

"There has been enough bloodshed on both sides", said Xavier, "the question is: Do we learn from the mistakes of others, or go on making our own?"

Lyman almost couldn't meet Xavier's gaze, starting to feel a bit conflicted about his actions as of late. "For what it's worth, I hope this works out for the good of everyone… mutated and non-mutated humans both."

"Mutated humans is it?" Professor Xavier said with a smile, "I rather like the sound of that. I think there may be hope for all of us yet Lieutenant Lyman."

"How'd you do that, know my name?" asked the soldier.

"I simply read the nametag on your uniform", the Professor said, a weary smile on his smile. 

Just then the sound of various helicopter rotor blades were heard surrounding the school. Armored Bradley fighting vehicles came rumbling to a stop near the school, and scores of soldiers poured in and around the school grounds. Operation Avenger had re-grouped and was back for round two. No soldier dared enter the damaged facility though, until they had been given the proper orders. 

Storm walked over to Lieutenant Lyman, and asked, "What's going to happen to us? Are we going to be imprisoned? Or… what?"

"I don't want to go to jail", said Marie, still grimacing from her wounds. "I mean, is that where we're going to?"

"You'll all probably go to a hospital first", said Lyman, "Maybe not all of you (looking at Grace Frost), and some of you are definitely wanted for questioning. I don't know anything more after that. I just do the work, I don't give the orders."

"You were with Stryker", Logan finally recognized the man. "You were here before, when Stryker attacked the mansion."

"Yes I was, Mr. Logan", Lyman admitted, "I was sent by Washington to keep an eye on Stryker, lost a lot of good people at Aikili lake."

"We all did", added Scott, who was standing next to Grace Frost. As he spoke, he subconsciously gave her a sideways glance. 

Minutes later, several black Crown Victorias pulled up and stopped in front of the dilapidated mansion. M.I.B. agents came streaming out and headed right towards the X-Men. One of the agents, a tall man with a medium build, flashed a badge at the Captain America team and quickly asserted, "We'll take it over from here soldier." Turning to Professor Xavier, "Charles Xavier, I am Agent Hathaway. We will see to your… CARE for the time being." 

"Bullsht", said Logan. "What have you aholes done with the rest of the kids?"

Agent Hathaway, whose eyes were hidden by his dark sunglasses, looked astounded. "Your file is right about you, Mr. Howlett… I mean… errr… Logan. You have an uncanny ability to see the big picture."

"Yeah I get it, bub", Logan made a mental note of the name this man just dropped, "You goons didn't just show up out of nowhere. You got the rest of our people, and now you came for us."

"WHERE IS KURT?!? IF YOU'VE HURT HIM I SWEAR I'LL…" Storm's eyes frosted over and a heavy wind began picking up.

"Calm down ma'am", Agent Hathaway said, ignoring the wind. "Kurt Wagner and the other students of the school are perfectly safe and unharmed… except for a headache, but that'll clear up in a few hours. They're on their way to a secure location in Washington, as are you."

"Secure location? Is that where you keep your mutant prisoners?" Scott asked firmly. 

"No Mr. Summers. That is where we send our GUESTS." Agent Hathaway smiled with a sly grin. "We have a proposal for you that we've been planning for a long time – and this rather unfortunate episode has only served to validate our hopes about you… but also speed up our plans."

"And what about me?" asked Grace Frost. "What are you going to do with me, now that you have them?"

"Ahhhh, the elusive Ms. Frost." As the agent stepped closer to her, Scott Summers, and Logan, maneuvered themselves in between them. The body language was unmistakable. "We will, ummm… ultimately will leave you to the care of the X-Men… after the M.I.B. has conducted a thorough debriefing with you, of course."

"Of course", Grace answered. She stepped back behind the two mutant men who were clearly taking protective stances in front of her.

"So Mr… Hathaway is it?" Xavier asked, "You're going to let us take 'care' of Emma Frost? How are we going to be able to do that, now that the school is in ruins? What exactly are you talking about, and what is this PLAN of yours?"

The agent spun around to face the Professor and said, "Something that will change the world!"

---------

"Not To Be" 

(4 long months later…)

"Construction is ahead of schedule, and I think the new command center is going to be completed by next month… at least, that's what the Project Managers say. Is there anything else you wanted to me to file sir?" The girl was immaculately dressed. She was a petite blonde, hair in a bun, wearing a conservative business suit – black with gray pinstripes. Her name badge had the new X-Men emblem, but it was the silver ID tag given to non-combat personnel, not the Gold-encrusted shield worn by strike-team members.

"That is all Ms. Blaire", said Cyclops, barely looking up from his paperwork, "And Allison, could you hold my non-essential calls this morning, I have to get ready for a net-meeting with the Joint Chiefs."

"That's always a party isn't it?" The dazzling young lady's smiled literally LIT up the room.

"Yeah, a real laugh riot", conceded Cyclops, "Another long and boring afternoon session… them questioning EVERY dollar we spend…"

"Well, they are investing a lot of money here", Allison quipped.

"$4.3 billion and change", said Cyclops, "Not to mention all the international donations. Just make sure no one gets in here. This whole morning is being dedicated to some SERIOUS prep work."

"Yes sir", the girl answered. She then took all of her documents and notes off of Cyclops' lavish desk and stepped out of his office. Scott Summers took a minute to get up and stretch. His new office had the luxury of a spectacular view of the Westchester countryside. He looked out and saw all the construction workers and machinery milling about. The reconstruction of the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning, as it was now called, was going splendidly. The U.S. government granted Charles Xavier ten times the acreage to build the sprawling campus. Science buildings, classrooms, gymnasiums, auditoriums, an observatory, and even botanical facilities were simultaneously being built. By next fall, a rather large staff of human and mutant personnel would welcome an expected international student body of about eleven thousand – made up of both mutants and non-mutants. The expansive dorm facilities were already built and temporarily housing workers. The scope and magnitude was astounding.

But the REAL construction was taking place UNDER ground. Just like the previous school, this institute was a cover for a covert base of operations that was housed beneath the school's pristine veneer. This was no 'bat-cave', but a $2 billion dollar state-of-the-art command and control facility: equipped the latest in surveillance, security, communications, weapons, logistics, research labs… and just about everything. It would soon be occupied by the X-Men, who now had an expanded roster that included prime "operatives" like Cyclops, combat support strike-teams (like Lyman's Captain America squads and the newly dubbed "Iron-Man" corps), and about 300 mutant and non-mutant personnel (administrative, medical, security, maintenance, etc…). The underground base was about half the size of the campus, and the average person was none the wiser.

Cyclops sat down at his leather captain's chair, and began looking over budget reports. Is that all he did now? It seemed like it. He knew this would pass, the construction would be over, the facilities would be operational, and he could get back to doing what he liked doing most… which he seemed to have forgotten at the moment.

"You got a minute."

Cyclops looked up to see Logan standing there, holding a rather stuffed and large manila envelope with the name "James Howlett" written on it. "Sure Logan", he answered, waving Logan to come and have a seat. "Always have time to talk to 'essential' personnel."

"Is that what I am now? Essential personnel?" asked the gruff mutant, who was dressed in a leather jacket, white shirt, and black jeans. The back of the jacket was emblazoned with the gold X-Men logo, which had become a pop-icon fad as of late.

"We all are", said Cyclops with a sarcastic smile, "Or didn't you get the memo?"

"I don't read my email", Logan answered, "Actually, I don't know how to work it. Send one of the geeks to come look at it for me?"

"Logan, you're an enemy to all things technical", Cyclops stifled a laugh, "Forge was just helping you out last week. What was it you broke?"

"Hey, it ain't my fault if the stupid thing wasn't shutting off."

"The 'stupid thing' that could blow up half this building… remember what I told you?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Logan sneered, then, in his best Scott Summers impersonation, "Don't touch anything that could kill us all… blah, blah, blah…" Cyclops couldn't hold it in any longer and laughed out loud. To which, Logan flipped him off.

"So, what brings you to darken my doorstep today? Mutant threat? Human threat? Another sexual harassment suit?"

"What, no Paternity suit?" Logan added smiling.

"Oh yeah", Cyclops laughed. "Imagine next fall, 100 long lost daughters show up at our doorstep…"

"All with no memories and a dark past", Logan bellowed. "It's the stupidest thing I ever heard (he shudders). Hell, we'll have to build another dorm just for them."

"Imagine that", Scott said, "We have fans now."

"Not everybody's a fan. The Mutant Liberation Front is calling us sell outs, you know that?"

"We are sell outs, Logan", Cyclops said. He stood and walked over to his window, with its gorgeous view. "We fought the law…"

"And the law won", Logan added.

"No… we BECAME the law", Cyclops said. "I mean, look at us. We're a government-funded agency: a branch of the Mutant Investigations Bureau. Half the town of Westchester now either works in this school, or UNDER it."

"So… we're now an INSTITUTION!" Logan stated. "At least we get shiny new badges, new duds, cars, money… and all the big-breasted perks that come with the job."

"That reminds me", said Cyclops, "Allison said one more butt-slap and she'll go nuclear on you. Which, I think she can actually do that…"

"She's just playing hard to get", Logan said. "Too bad I'm easy."

"You know what bugs me about this?"

"The two gay dudes in Accounting that are always checking you out?"

"Not that… well, that TOO, but not as much as knowing that there is SO much more evil in the world than we thought. The MLF, that nut-job Mr. Sinister, Sentinels… and that was just from last month's briefing. It irks me that we've been spinning our wheels for so long… on the sidelines."

"And now we're in the big leagues… or the BIGGER leagues so to speak." Logan looked at the envelope he was holding. "You know what they say… there is no knowledge that is not power…"

"What is that?" Scott said, pointing at the envelope.

"Me." Logan said it flatly, and Scott just motioned for him to continue. "It's the U.S. government's secret military file on me. You know what I had to go through to get this? I had to threaten or sleep with A LOT of folks to get this."

"More likely you threatened TO sleep with a lot folks…" Scott stopped when he saw the glare on Logan's face. "I'm sorry, go on."

"This is my history, or as much of it that they know about me. It's a lot. You know that name was originally… get this… James? I wonder if folks called me 'Jimmy' (He shook off that thought). And apparently I've been involved in just about every major war in the last century?"

"Whoa…" Scott uttered, "How old are you… Jimbo?"

"Call me that again, and I'm telling those Accounting guys you think they're hot!"

"Alright, continue."

"Thank You. I'm just feeling weird about knowing so much stuff about myself… but not remembering any of it. I see the old Army photos, sitting with guys who I don't recognize… it weirds me out. I don't remember anything before the last ten years. I haven't read this whole file, but you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm scared man, really scared", Logan said seriously, "I'm scared that I won't like the man I was. I'm scared that all these bad habits I have now are just the tip of a very LARGE… very ugly iceberg."

"Take your time, Logan", Scott said, walking over and putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "There's a lot of stuff there, maybe too much to take in at once. But maybe you can just take it slowly, ease into it…"

"You know what?" Logan said, looking up at Scott and smiling, "You ARE gay."

Scott started to laugh out-loud again, quickly taking his hand off of Logan's shoulder. "Get the hell out of my office, and go impregnate someone. We need more students for the 'Daughters of Wolverine' department." Logan got up and shook his friend's hand before he left. In the last four months, their mutual grief for Jean had made them better friends than just about anyone else in the mansion. It seemed like an odd pairing to everyone else, these seemingly polar opposites, but when they were with each other they just seemed to revert to sophomoric attitudes and jovial banter: a side of them they rarely showed to hardly ANYONE else. Scott could've sworn he heard the distinctive sound of a butt-slap, followed by a groin-kick… but maybe he was just hearing things.

He got back to his paperwork, and after a half hour was actually making some sense of the schematics for the new Physics labs. He was interrupted by yet another knock on his office door. Frustrated, he pushed on the intercom and barked, "Allison, unless it's the President, please tell whoever is out there that I'm canceling today's meetings!"

The door opened, and a stunning buxom blonde woman walked in – dressed completely in white. "You don't have time for me?" Grace said, in a faux pout.

"I ALWAYS have time for you Grace", Scott said. "How may I help you?"

"I was just stopping by, seeing if you wanted to catch lunch later?" Grace said, a shy smile on her face. She was starting to act less like Jean, to which she could thank the ongoing therapy, but her Jean-ness was just so subconscious that she didn't even notice anymore. 

"I'm sorry Grace", Scott replied, noticing the woman's head droop, "It's just that I have this REALLY important meeting with the higher-ups. Why not go to lunch with Ororo and Kurt?"

"What? No way", Grace said, "All those two do is make out like teenagers. Kurt may be religious, but apparently it doesn't stop him from being stuck to Storm's lips night-and-day."

"At least they're getting on with their lives", Scott mused. "You know, I took that month off after our Washington trip because I needed time to just collect myself… and mourn… something I never got a chance to do after Jean's death."

"I know. I took some time to grieve for my sister too. She may have been an evil btch, but she was still my sister, you know?"

"I know. I'm trying to sort this all out too. I'm trying to sort you out too?"

"Yeah, I mean, like I have an MBA and a Master's in Psychology, so I'm in the institute's Economics department and Psychology labs, but in our HQ I'm in the Medical Science Division because of all of Jean's knowledge. Makes it tough for the Accounting guys… which, by the way, think you're…"

"I know, I know…" Scott said, "But that's not what I'm talking about. You know that. I'm trying to make sense of 'us'. You know so much about me, feel so much for me. I have to admit it, my feelings for you aren't getting any weaker. It's just too complicated."

"Yeah, for me too", Grace sat down on the leather couch. "I remember being madly in love with you. Desperately. But the more time I spend in therapy, the more I realized that it was Jean. I mean, I think you're awesome too, but I know it's too soon for you… maybe for a long time. And I need time to sort out my feelings for you too, and Jean's memories of you. I don't want to just be her replacement."

"I don't want that either", Scott answered. "I owe you more than that. And you're right. It's too soon. I still feel guilty every time I notice Allison bending over…" Grace gave him a 'raised eyebrow'. "I mean, I can't think of anyone without these feelings that I'm betraying Jean. I know Jean wouldn't want me to feel this way…"

"No, about looking at your secretary's butt, she would", Grace said smiling, "Trust me, I know."

"Yeah, I guess she would", Scott said, "But you and I both know that Jean wanted me to get on with my life, for her sake. I would love to just walk over there and kiss you and tell you how much I'm falling in love with you but…" Grace's mouth was wide open at the sudden candor of that statement.

"But?" she barely asked.

"But you're right. It's too soon for me to know… if I'm starting to feel for you, Grace Frost, or if I'm just loving what is left of Jean inside of you." Scott paused. "You and I both deserve better than that."

"I guess we'll just keep up the awkward flirting for now?" Grace said, cheerfully shrugging her shoulders. This woman is so gorgeous, Scott thought. And he knew she was already his, and maybe he was hers… but they both had to make their peace with Jean – strange as that seemed.

"Yeah", Scott said, "And vicariously make-out through Storm and Nightcrawler." Grace laughed, as Scott ran his fingers through his meticulous hair. "You know what… I think I will join you for that lunch, maybe the Professor can join us too."

"That'll be tough, since he flew out for Belgium this morning." Grace said, as she stood up from the couch, taking Scott's hand.

"That's right, the NATO meeting", Scott remembered, "Man, does the Professor EVER go a week without a speaking engagement?"

"Lifestyles of the rich and EXTREMELY public. He's a celebrity now. 'The Man Who Stopped Magneto'. At least, that's how the press puts it."

"Yeah, I guess we're all celebrities. Celebrity super-cops. Maybe there'll be a movie. Who do you think would play me?"

"Ben Affleck… or maybe Brad Pitt…"

"I think James Marsden would do a better job, he's got the right look, although a little young. Oh well, after you Madame." Scott gave a bow and opened the door for Grace, who stepped through and into the huge X-Men administrative facility. Scott Summers followed her out, the door auto locking behind him. "Allison, I'm going to lunch. Unless it's the Professor, don't put through any calls to my cell, Ok hon?"

"Sure thing, Fearless Leader." The bright girl continued to do her work, and Instant Message her friends on the computer. Scott Summers and Grace Frost did indeed meet Ororo and Kurt for lunch. Then they spent an hour watching the two of them keep from fondling each other. Of course, Kurt and his ebony goddess did stop long enough to announce their engagement, which meant even more kissing for the inseparable pair. Life would get back to normal sooner or later, but it would never be the same.

Someone once said that for evil to win, all good men have to do is nothing. The X-Men would never sit idly by ever again, watching the world hurt and only worrying about their own kind's survival. Xavier's dream of integrating with humans was finally beginning to take hold, but with a sobering reality of what super-powered mutants' responsibility is to the rest of mankind. The Institute did not exist to protect mutants from humans… but rather to protect humanity from the powers of irresponsible mutants. It was a Brave New World that was forged that fateful day in Aikili Lake… a world that came about through the strains and strife of events that served only as the birth pains to a new era.

The End… or rather… The Beginning.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was going to be two chapters, but I decided to release it all now, so I could get started on another story – a sequel to AU storyline of X-Syndicate. If you don't know about that story, then read it on this site. Maybe I'll do a short vignette about the events in the 4 months between this story's last battle, and the final scene of this story. I'd like to thank all those that took the time to actually read this LONG story, and review it. I know I took my time, but REAL life just crashed in the way of getting this done. I had actually written another ending, where Grace stopped the bullets, and then died saving the X-Men again. But then I had to deal with Magneto, so I just brought him in for his Shakespearean finale. Possessor of the X Gene, thank you for all your encouragement, I don't think I would've kept writing this had it not been for your kind words. And Coral, I hope you enjoy the third person kuroro relationship – I just couldn't write a scene for them too (it would've been SOOOOO long). Thank you to everyone, again, for reading this little piece of fiction.


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